


Impractical Magic

by shadhahvar



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Animal Transformation, Crack with Feels, Curse Breaking, M/M, Magical Girl Yuuri, Magical Girls, No One Gets Laid In This Story, Nonsexual Nudity, Powered by UST, Sick Character, Social Drinking and Drunkenness, Temporary Possession By Squid, Tentacles, Toy Poodle Viktor, Unlicensed Magical Girl Mentor Viktor, Vending Machine Possession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-05-20 22:33:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 71,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14903357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadhahvar/pseuds/shadhahvar
Summary: When Viktor Nikiforov was cursed into the form of a toy poodle, his competitive figure skating career—his whole life—was put on hold.  Two years later, a chance encounter with senior skater Yuuri Katsuki on the evening of his worst international performance will be the spark to give them both a chance to rediscover themselves as Viktor coaches Yuuri in figure skating... and mentors him as a Magical Girl.





	1. close encounters of the naked kind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [argyros (argentumluna)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/argentumluna/gifts).



> This story is complete at 12 chapters, and will be posting regularly on Monday and Thursday for the next few weeks. This is a part of the Viktuuri Reverse Big Bang 2018.
> 
> Thank you so much to Luna for the wonderful sketch that led to me asking, "so hey, how ridiculous can this get," and ultimately led to this story. I blame her entirely and with all the love in my heart: Luna, this one's for you, by you, and because of you. ❤ Thanks for being the best collaborating partner a writer could ever have! Find her on both [Twitter](https://twitter.com/allthemegane) and [Tumblr](https://argyros.tumblr.com/)!
> 
> To everyone else... please enjoy the ride! There's some incredible art starting from chapter one and peppered in throughout the story, all from Luna's creative pen, sure to astound, amaze, and perhaps make you question just what kind of sugar high/caffeine daze we were operating on. Be warned: while there is no sexual content in any of these images, they do include nudity amoung other ridiculous factors, and so I advise against viewing while at work or in other similar public spaces. ;)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor Nikiforov runs into Yuuri Katsuki in the last place either of them planned on finding each other: the restroom.

Viktor slipped into the restroom stall, shuffling backward in the narrow space between the toilet bowl and the metal door in front of him. He’d perfected this whole song and dance a year and a half ago. Now he brushed his fingers over the hair tie bow in his pocket before pulling it out and using it to hold his bangs away from his face, then shrugged out of his suit jacket and hung it off the hooks on the door without pause. He didn’t have to think, routine guiding his hands and fingers through the motions of undressing and stashing his clothing, mind far away reviewing everyone he’d seen on the ice.

He wanted to be back out there. 

Looping his tie around the lower hook, Viktor frowned. He’d tracked people’s progress this season, frustrated any time he came close to being excited by someone _inspirational_ out on the ice. He wasn’t done with figure skating competitions. He hadn’t finished surprising the audience; he’d just introduced his quad flip in his last competitive season. It’d landed him golds in the Grand Prix Series and Final, a gold at Nationals, a gold at the European Championships, and a gold at the World Championships.

_Two years ago_. 

Now he was lucky to have enough time to step on the ice and allow Yakov or Georgi to take photographs of him “practicing” while during his extended recovery from an unspecified and wildly conjectured “injury.” He supposed it wouldn’t do to state that Viktor Nikiforov, three time consecutive World Champion, was off circuit due to a _curse_ , and not some injury sustained in an off-ice accident. 

He sighed, feeling the magic wash over him, closing his eyes to avoid the sudden vertigo as his world shrunk and body contorted with a strange sense of pressure. His skin hummed with energy and itched as usually soft hair thickened and pushed outward, curling as it grew. When he felt the cool tile pressing against all four of his paws, Viktor opened his eyes, blinking rapidly to adjust to the change in vision. The brightness of colours around him dimmed as the magic waned, leaving him with what was normal vision for a canine. He had to admit, it was nice being able to see well in darkness without having to rely on a spell, but he missed the vibrancy of colour his human eyes could pick out—the depths of blue in the tiles at his back were lost, as was the richness of the red paint covering the door.

He breathed in, sorting through the scents his more sensitive nose picked out, finding nothing out of place. Time to find Yakov or Yuri and let them know he’d been forced back into canine form; like usual, Yakov would collect his clothes for him later. There were benefits to being used to all this nonsense. Putting the out of order sign on the stall once the restroom was empty and leaving it locked behind him was simple enough as a precaution.

He dropped down to his belly, ready to wiggle out under the door, when he heard someone enter the room. He pushed back up to his feet, cocking his head to the side as he listened intently to whoever it was walking past the sinks and down the line of stalls. Viktor peered under the door, watching athletic runners and black pants as they turned and entered the stall two down from where he stood stock still.

His ear twitched as the man sat down, catching no further sound of fabric moving or paper being pulled off the roll. He squinted, concentrating on what he heard as the man started to speak. 

Japanese? Yes, that was what it sounded like. Given the location and lack of any fellow occupant, he was talking to someone on the phone. Viktor perked up, both glad he couldn’t understand enough to feel like he was eavesdropping and curious as to who it could be. He supposed he could wait to figure out the mystery, but Yuri and Yakov were expecting him in all his canine glory, and he didn’t particularly _enjoy_ hanging around restrooms.

Viktor dropped back down to his belly, crawling forward and freezing again as the man’s voice changed, breaking on words and stopping like people did when close to tears. Wide eyed, ears pressed back against his skull, Viktor heard the conversation break off into audible sobs. A thread of panic curled in his chest, sending Viktor scrabbling out to peer uncertainly at the only other closed door in the line of stalls.

He could leave. Walk extra quietly so his traitorous nails wouldn’t make his passage evident, slip out the door, and find who he needed to find. After all, Viktor wasn’t qualified to handle crying and didn’t like putting himself into situations where he had to deal with tears. He hadn’t a clue what helped people in that kind of distress given his own solution was “repress then hug Makkachin.”

_Makkachin_.

He dropped his head, tail tucked down between his legs. He missed Makkachin. He still felt her absence as keenly as if she’d been taken just yesterday. She’d been the part of himself that knew how to comfort him when he felt isolated and alone, uninspired and ambivalent. Only knowing she was still out there kept him going when he couldn’t even skate his heart out to escape his head, stuck as he was on four feet most the time. Curses weren’t meant to be _kind_ , but the ways in which this one was unkind still took him by surprise even two years later. Two years without Makkachin in his life was a kind of grief he hadn’t expected to face; familiars lived longer than normal animals, and she was young for a familiar.

Maybe it was the thought of Makkachin that turned him toward the stall, or maybe it was the disconnected details his mind put together as he pushed off his own feelings of hopelessness. Runners likely meant the crying man was an athlete, and he spoke Japanese. There weren’t a plethora of people that could be at the competition. It didn’t take much to come to the conclusion this was likely Yuuri Katsuki, the man he’d watched struggle through a bad skate not all that much earlier in the evening.

The man who skated on the ice Viktor couldn’t touch, striving toward his own goals and dreams, whatever they were. Crying, sobbing, over a bad skate while sitting locked in a stall in the men’s restroom.

Makkachin had always known how to be kind to Viktor. Maybe it was time for Viktor to pay some of that kindness forward.

He sighed, a soft exhalation as he walked to the door, crouching down and whining as he looked underneath to study the man sitting on the toilet. He held his phone to his mouth, clutching his face as tears streamed down his cheeks and off the tip of his nose, eyes open and pained with an emotion Viktor couldn’t make out. His focus in dog form wasn’t as good as when he was human, and all he had was canine eyesight now with the magic that’d kept him temporarily human out of his system. 

At least he’d been right about who it was. He felt a small sort of pleasure at his deduction in the face of the overwhelming discomfort heavy in his stomach. Yuuri startled hard when his eyes met Viktor’s, jerking back and sitting up straight with a surprised noise caught and garbled in the back of his throat. 

He stared at Viktor, confusion and pain visible on his face before he rallied a smile. He brought his legs together and set his phone down on them to hold out his hand. Viktor didn’t understand what he said as Yuuri still speaking in Japanese, but his tone and body language invited him forward. So Viktor squirmed under the door, sniffed at Yuuri’s hand as it was offered to him, and gave it a nudge with his nose. The tremor in Yuuri’s hand as he pet over the top of Viktor’s head and shoulders was paired with a snotty inhalation, tears still falling down Yuuri’s face.

Viktor wasn’t sure he was _helping_ , considering Yuuri was still crying, but he was also smiling and apologising if Viktor recognised what bits of Japanese he thought he did. He whined again, wagging his tail as an afterthought, then jumped up to place his paws on Yuuri’s knees.

It must have read as an invitation, because Yuuri tentatively reached out and pulled Viktor up into his lap, Viktor fighting against his instinct to wiggle away and gain his own space. He hated feeling handled, especially when he was small and cute, but the mantra in his head of _what would Makkachin do_ helped keep him steady.

Bad skates were hurtful. He remembered having those when he was younger, and how it would sink claws into his heart until he hardened and practiced and the scars healed over. From what he recalled, this was Yuuri’s worst free skate score in his senior career. It was an unkindness to have that announced over the speakers as it had been, but announcers were not all sensitive to what they said.

Finding himself cradled in Yuuri’s lap, arms wrapped around him, Viktor wagged his tail and whined his own uncertainty. Yuuri seemed to cry harder at that, distressing Viktor even more. He felt strange, a growing sensation almost like he was in contact with the magical energy of a crowd of people’s emotions; or like he was breaking out into gooseflesh not knowing what to do. Viktor Nikiforov, former world champion, current toy poodle, tried to ignore the sensation and fall back on replicating what Makkachin would do to cheer him up when he felt low.

Turning his face, he gave a tentative lick of Yuuri’s cheek, shifting himself to plant a paw on Yuuri’s shoulder. He kept up the tail wagging, finding it easier when Yuuri laughed and turned his face toward Viktor, glasses knocked off kilter and smudged. Viktor licked his face again, tasting the salt of tears on his tongue and the salt of exertion on Yuuri’s skin. Awkward, but not bad. Yuuri was laughing as much as he was crying now, gently trying to turn Viktor’s face away from his own to stop the licking, which of course only made Viktor try to lick him _harder_ , since laughter was better than crying—and then, so abruptly he barely understood it himself, he recognised the feeling that’d been creeping up on him.

_Magic_. It wasn’t just _like_ magic. It _was_ magic.

With a sudden wave of warmth flooding over him as the unexpected magic took hold and unwrought his cursed transformation, turning him from toy poodle to human, Viktor sprawled awkwardly in Yuuri’s lap with his tongue out and pressed to Yuuri’s cheek. 

There he sat: Viktor Nikiforov, fully human, entirely nude, and licking a potential competitor’s _cheek_.

Between the look of confusion changing into dawning horror on Yuuri’s face, the pressure of hands on Viktor’s back and backside, and the awkward twist of his body now that he was sitting in Yuuri’s lap with his legs curled over one of Yuuri’s thighs, he figured he could be forgiven later for panicking a little.

  


The sleep spell he hit Yuuri with while half in his lap was imperfect; more like the sleep encouragement spell used on Viktor throughout his youth by Yakov to ensure he fell into a sleep beyond dreaming. It proved just as effective on Yuuri, his panicked confusion and the brokenhearted look in his eyes smoothed over as he slumped forward, Viktor keeping him upright. Magic enfolded them both, the warmth of something felt more than seen, settling against his skin like a familiar blanket.

“Well,” he said, “That was surprising.”

Keeping Yuuri from flopping over while unlocking the door, Viktor puzzled over one question in particular: what in the world just happened?

* * *

He didn’t have an answer by the time he’d managed to get Yuuri safely seated leaning against a wall in the restroom. He half re-dressed himself, eschewing his jacket, and cradled Yuuri’s deadweight against his chest as he carried him back out into the hall once the coast was clear. Yuuri breathed steadily, the lines of his face smoothed out in rest. 

Viktor hoped he’d wake up feeling better than he had before, but what Yuuri would remember, or how he’d try to make sense of it, was up in the air. He had to walk away not knowing, the odd effect ending not more than fifteen minutes later. Consulting with Yakov had left them both stumped as to why it’d happened in the first place, but they’d agreed to wait and see what Yuuri did next.

Two days later he hadn’t heard anything on social media, and Yuuri hadn’t come asking questions. In fact he hadn’t seen Yuuri since leaving him on one of the hall benches curled up on his side and napping in the eyes of anyone who wandered by.

Yakov didn’t stint on sharing his opinion.

“People believe what they want to believe.” Yakov frowned down at Viktor, adjusting his tie in front of the mirror in his hotel room. Viktor was in dog form despite the amount of magical energy they’d managed to siphon from everyone at the gala skate, biding his time to use his fifteen minutes of freedom by activating the artifact holding it all.

“So he doesn’t want to believe any of that happened?” It made sense. Far easier to believe he’d dreamed the entire encounter than to explain how the perpetually absent Viktor appeared while Yuuri thought he’d been cuddling a cute silver toy poodle. Viktor couldn’t fault anyone for finding reality too absurd to be believable. He wished he had the same luxury.

“Yes. Vitya, you’re sure about attending like this?”

Viktor turned his head, examining the vest he wore from the corner of an eye. Service animals had a kind of pass to get in and out of facilities and countries that wouldn’t be possible otherwise, so yes, he was _sure_ , even if it meant wearing a collar and being leashed to his coach and mentor. “What choice have I had?”

His ears twitched as Yakov breathed out in a heavy, somewhat irritated sigh. “There’s always a _choice_ , Vitya, if you’d just listen to what I say.”

“If I just listened, I wouldn’t have been anywhere I used to be. Or where I will be,” he said, hoping at least Yakov believed him.

Viktor was losing hope himself.

He stood and trotted past Yakov to sit in front of the door, tail wagging. He sat on his haunches, paws tucked in to his chest, and gave Yakov his second best puppy eyes. “Slip me some of the meaty hors d'oeuvres?”

Yakov picked up his collar and leash, grunting as he knelt to loop the collar around Viktor’s neck. “No begging.”

Pouting didn’t work as a dog, but making a sad whine in the back of his throat and continuing to give Yakov puppy eyes while his ears pressed closer to his skull turned out to be more effective than pouting. “I never beg.”

Yakov didn’t so much as blink, snapping the leash through the ring of Viktor’s collar. He hefted to his feet again with a grunt and double crack of his joints, first his left knee, then his right hip. Viktor kept his ears from twitching to follow the sound. He’d noticed at some point it bothered his coach, though he wasn’t sure why. Viktor didn’t sound much better some days himself.

_Didn’t sound much better. Past tense._ The thought soured in his stomach as he wagged his tail to hold it off, front paws touching down as they headed out of the room. 

Yakov’s demeanour had the unexpected bonus of keeping most would-be cooing admirers at a distance. Those who didn’t pay attention to Yakov’s surly presence would ask for Viktor’s name, how old he was, if they could pet him. The same questions he’d answered for Makkachin with a grin, choosing a new age each time; familiars didn’t face the same problems with age that true animals did. Viktor was a whole different problem altogether, though Yakov took a certain pleasure in changing Viktor’s age to “old enough to know better than to do half of what he does.”

Injured looks and huffs won laughter from onlookers, even if he knew Yakov was being serious.

They collected Yuri and Mila from down the hall, both dressed in formal wear and ready for the banquet. Mila crouched down to tidy his hair-bow, tongue poking out between her lips as she concentrated. 

“There, all better. You’re hanging out with us all evening?”

Viktor tipped his head to one side, then the other. “One way or another.”

She smiled, young enough to find it amusing, old enough to know Viktor wasn’t as laid back about his predicament as he pretended. “Right, so I should be saving you a spot on my dance card?”

Yuri snorted behind both of them, frowning down at Viktor. “Like there’s ever anything worth dancing to at the banquet.”

“Good point.” Mila straightened up and looped her arm through Yuri’s before he thought fast enough to protest. He shoved against her shoulder with a frown, Yakov shooting both skaters a quelling _look_ as they hit the lifts, riding down to the third floor. Signs and a flow of people, press, and event staff lead the way, the group of them falling into step with minimal fuss.

“What a cute puppy! How old is she?”

Viktor twitched an ear toward the voice speaking, turning his head to get a sense of who was talking to Yakov. He didn’t recognise her, not even when he breathed in deep, mouth hanging open as he concentrated on using his better nose. Between Yuri’s scent, barely there under the soap, and Mila’s preference for light perfumes warring with Yakov’s unrelenting aftershave and the cedarwood clinging to his suit, Viktor couldn’t pick her out. His eyes didn’t grasp the right detail to make her out either, and with her voice not sounding familiar, he was at a loss.

“Old enough to know better than to do half of what he does,” Yakov said, just as Viktor expected. The woman laughed, Viktor wagging his tail in a low arc and wishing he was already inside the banquet hall. There was a chance he’d find Yuuri there too, maybe even close enough to the same table that Viktor could…

He jerked his head back in surprise from the sudden hand thrust before his snout, finding it easy to pick out the woman’s scent now. She must have asked if she could pet him, though the service animal vest should have forestalled that; he glanced up to Yakov, asking for clarification. To anyone else, it looked like a dog asking his owner for permission.

“No petting, just saying hello.”

Viktor turned his head back to the hand and gave her a perfunctory sniff. She sounded nice, and she didn’t smell bad, but Viktor’s heart wasn’t in entertaining fans of his _curls_. He still stretched one paw forward, raking at the air and leaving it hanging. She reached out, encouraged by a grunt and nod from Yakov, to politely take Viktor’s paw in hand and shake.

That time he didn’t keep his tail from one wag, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth after he barked.

“Nice to meet you too, _Zajka_.” She laughed, letting go of his paw. It was his assumed alias as Yakov’s service animal, and one Yakov was good at remembering to use in public. The one time Yakov had slipped up and called out _Vitya_ in irritation the only people who’d heard thought it was hysterical that Yakov had shouted the wrong name at his dog. 

Yuri had found it even more hysterical right before getting yelled at himself.

Free of her attentions, Yakov clucked his tongue and let Viktor lead the way into the room, nose up as he scented the area. Whatever air circulation they had was keeping things moving away from him; there was only a tantalising hint of cooked meat setting his salivary glands going.

“Yakov,” he said, murmuring low enough to have his voice swallowed up by the noise of the room. “There’s _meat_.”

Yakov jingled the leash, a twist of his wrist that passed down the length of it, alerting Viktor to the fact he’d been heard. “Patience, _Zajka._ No drooling on my shoes.”

Viktor snorted loud enough to be heard, tossing his head and ears around, prancing along at Yakov’s side. Mila let go of Yuri to weave through the crowd toward Sara, all laughter and smiles and a congratulatory hug. Yuri scoffed and stuck close, collapsing into the chair at their assigned table with a huff and glaring out across the room.

Viktor made a home for himself between Yakov and Yuri’s chairs, turning in a circle so he could sit and watch the open area behind them. He kept sniffing, hoping he’d catch a hint of Yuuri’s scent, heavy and laced with sweat as it’d been to his nose before Viktor found himself suddenly human. Yakov had a point in saying people only believed what they wanted to believe. Magic was too much, too far out of comfort zones, which worked in favour of all those who _practiced_ magic in the current age. 

At the same time the only reason Viktor could have turned human was related to _magic_. Magic more personal and immediate than what they siphoned off the crowds at big events, storing in the ridiculous hair ties decorating the top of his curly hair. Viktor had no access to his own magic, not while a dog, and nothing he did while human allowed him to stop the curse from taking right over as soon as the outside magic waned.

He sighed, huddling down on the floor and resting his chin on his paws. The evening was slow to begin, athletes and sponsors and the panel of judges and ISU representatives mixing with members of the media, all before dinner was properly served and the attending speeches made. 

No scent of Yuuri. No scent of unexpected magic, either, and he _was_ paying attention. He might not have the ability to manipulate it in this form, but he was still sensitive to the play of magic in a given area, and what was here felt like he expected. Yakov was self contained; Yuri, sulking in the seat to his side, only leaked a little magic due to irritation and discomfort. Mila was so good at masking herself that Viktor couldn’t sense her as anything more than a gentle buzz in his peripheral awareness. The normal level of ambient magic present in any gathering showed no signs of fluctuation.

Had he made it all up because it was what _he_ wanted to believe? Viktor frowned, best as he could as a dog. No, he didn’t. In the last two years he’d never been able to return to human form _without_ outside help. 

Two days ago, he hadn’t been able to either. The only difference was Yuuri.

Yuuri, who either wasn’t here, or was and didn’t register. Which meant he had training, which meant… Viktor didn’t know all that it meant, only that it was unlikely anyone trained to use their magic would be up for taking on a second training as a magical girl, considering Viktor was technically now a magical girl mentor. His curse was very odd in its particulars. Find someone to accept him as he was, and love him as he was, and whom he loved in return. Not difficult, right?

Except for the curveball of being a magical girl mentor, so either someone had to fall in love with a talking poodle who could turn human a handful of times in a year, or he had to find a magician willing to train as a magical girl and hope that meant he was free to be human more often than he was now. 

Viktor sighed again, lifting a paw to settle over his face and hide his eyes. Food was still however long from arriving. Better to focus on what he’d be able to achieve than indulge any more wondering about what he might not.

When he felt it, at first he thought he’d registered a shiver in the magic of the room. The hair down his spine stood on end, a shudder passing through him as he lifted his head off his paws and tried to pin down a source for that feeling. 

The touch of this magic wasn’t like it had been in the restroom, now a gentler warmth, a song that brushed against him, barely heard. Viktor scooted back under the table, his leash dragging at his collar. Yakov must have set it on the floor because he didn’t feel it catch even as he turned and walked toward an unoccupied chair. He ducked down, hooking his nose under the tablecloth and walking out the other side, blinking once he was fully under the chair. The tablecloth was still over his haunches, but he barely registered the pressure against his curls. No, he could _feel_ that warmth coming from somewhere in the room, a haunted memory of a touch that seemed impossible.

Viktor set off toward it trailing his leash behind, uncaring as he twisted around legs and heard gasps of surprise as he cut through the crowd. He was near the entryway when he was able to pin the sensation down, a prickling of warmth that had him almost on edge, staring through people toward the source. The circulation of air in the room favoured him now as it hadn’t when he first entered. Sniffing and dancing forward, he caught a tantalising hint of _Yuuri_ , more subdued and masked under soap, but still _Yuuri_. Excitement and hesitant disbelief at war in his heart, Viktor darted into the crowd to find him by scent, or sound, or anything other than his imperfect vision.

He was jerked to a halt with a startled yip, collar pulling hard at his throat. He spun around and saw Yuri Plisetsky with his foot on the end and a look of irritation to mask his uncertainty. “Stupid old man, get _back_ here!”

Viktor ducked his head and braced his legs, backing up and using Yuri’s weight as leverage for getting his purposefully loose collar over his head. He felt it clear his ears as he stumbled backward, hitting someone’s legs and nearly tripping over his own feet in the process. 

Hands descended, his nose telling him who was happening to him before he fully squirmed away. Yuuri’s scent, which had been more distant a moment ago, was now much closer, much more immediate. Stilling his struggle as two hands found his shoulders, keeping him in place, Viktor stared up at the face of the man he’d been looking for, finding himself stared at in return.

_He wears blue glasses_ , he remembered. The same warmth that had been brushing against him earlier was even more present now, a tingling against his senses. Not as powerfully overwhelming or all-encompassing as two days ago, but there.

_I knew it!_ He wanted to shout. Instead he broke into a canine grin, tail giving a tentative wag.

“Viktor?” Yuuri’s voice was barely a murmur, his expression difficult to read. His emotions less so to Viktor’s nose: there was a heaviness that pulled at Viktor’s heart, and a acrid scent that wasn’t fear, more like uneasiness. Yuuri’s tongue licked over his lips, his brow furrowing into worried lines Viktor wished he could brush away, the thrill of excitement rushing through him leaving him wanting Yuuri as excited as he was, not concerned. 

_He said my name_.

_He remembers. He remembers!_

Before Viktor could throw himself upward, leaping toward Yuuri’s face in joy, he felt a second pair of hands land on his back and slide under his chest. He was hauled up into the air and tucked against Yuri’s chest while Yuuri straightened, looking between Viktor and Yuri. Viktor did the same, biting down on his protests and letting out a strangled sound of disapproval instead as he wiggled, pointedly looking from Yuri to Yuuri.

_Let me go, Yura!_

Yuri, unfortunately not psychic and not prone to indulging Viktor in the first place, instead managed a terse, “Sorry this idiot slipped his leash. He won’t bother you again.”

Viktor _did_ snort at that, whining as Yuuri tipped his head toward the both of them.

“He’s not a bother, really. I…” Yuuri cut himself off, offering Yuri a wan smile instead. “He reminds me of someone I know.”

Yuri stiffened, clutching Viktor against his chest. “What, dogs just remind you of other dogs? What is _with_ dog people anyway? I bet you are one, aren’t you?”

Yuri turned on heel and stomped off with Viktor clutched in his arms without waiting for Yuuri’s reply. A hint of embarrassment teased Viktor’s nose as they made the short journey back to where Yakov sat frowning, Mila finally at their table and seated. She waved, smiling, but even Viktor could make out the furrow of concern that had her brows drawn together. It was apparently a night for him to concern everyone; Yakov might have sent Yuri after him, but Yuri did nothing except by his own whim, supposedly.

_Not true_. True enough for his purposes as he felt Yuuri’s warmth recede, turning into that thin, teasing awareness from before. Now that he knew the cause, he ceased feeling put on edge by it. It was more of a calling than it was an interruption, a melody playing and muffled by distance.

Viktor was deposited on the ground, Yuri dumping the collar and leash by his side. Yakov leaned over to pick up the collar and unbuckle it, telling Viktor in no uncertain terms that what kind of dog was doing their job by running away from the person they were supposed to watch? He tuned it out, even keeping himself from flinching as the collar snapped in place again, a reminder of the role he played to be out in public and just to the left of where he wanted to be.

Yuuri remembered. Yuuri recognised him! That had to mean something. Viktor had to figure out what that was, but he’d ask tonight, after Yakov went upstairs. Fifteen minutes wasn’t much, but it was enough to figure out if Yuuri might agree to taking him on as a familiar.

He’d at least start the conversation before continuing on all four paws. It wasn’t like he had much of a choice in the matter, but if there was any chance Yuuri might say yes, then maybe…

Maybe there was a light at the end of the tunnel his life had become.


	2. the unexpected quandry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Viktor and Yuuri both learn something surprising about each other, and all Viktor's half-thought plans promptly get thrown out the window.

Asking Yuuri turned out to be more difficult in practice than it was in theory. Viktor was impatient as he rode down the lifts, having thrown himself together and adjusting what he could of his suit as he went. He tucked his shirt in and left his hair in artful disarray, combing his fingers through as an afterthought while as he dashed out into the hall.

He looked put together enough for the hour. Sliding back into the event hall with a ready smile, he scanned the crowd, one which thankfully ignored him for the most part. Where was Yuuri?

He found him in a flash of movement caught between shifting bodies of a watching audience. Viktor caught sight of Yuuri Katsuki sweeping Chris off his feet and into a low dip, then bringing him back up to spin him out and away as the music wound down. Yuuri’s jacket had gone missing, the colour in his cheeks high, his smile showing teeth in a definite challenge. He swayed as people applauded, Viktor joining in as he angled closer while trying to understand what happened while he’d been upstairs.

Chris laughed, patting Yuuri on the back. Viktor didn’t hear what he said, just far enough away and at the wrong angle to try and read lips. He missed the acuity of his canine hearing.

He shook his head at the thought. No, he didn’t. There was nothing he missed about being a dog. Wrangling with that, he blinked as the people before him were not so gently nudged to the side by an oncoming force of nature.

Viktor found himself frowning down at Yuuri Katsuki, expression losing its edge as he saw the bright, shining light in Yuuri’s eyes. His glossy, drunken eyes.

Oh, _damn_.

Yuuri lurched forward, wrapping his arms around Viktor and nuzzling against his chest with a happy sigh. He spoke Japanese, a softer rush of words than what had broken past Viktor’s guard yesterday to leave him sneaking under the bathroom stall door. Yuuri leaned his head back, eyes wide, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose.

“Viktor, did you know? My family has a hot springs. It’s _magic_ ,” Yuuri said, breaking into a happy smile, “You should come.” Yuuri was caught up in the amusement of his own suggestion, giggling a little, before his eyes widened even further. “Viktor. _Viktor_. Be my coach, Viktor!”

All but singing Viktor’s name, Yuuri let go of his torso and threw his arms around Viktor’s shoulders instead, beaming and butting up under his chin as he sagged his weight into him. It was such a bizarre, unexpected turn of events that Viktor didn’t know what to make of it. Nor why his heart skipped a beat at the look in Yuuri’s eyes, or why his cheeks started to warm as Yuuri continued murmuring in Japanese against his collarbone. Viktor hadn’t been as careful in buttoning up his shirt as he’d thought, a fact he was currently not all that perturbed by.

“Yuuri, it’s probably a good time to call it a night.” He wished it wasn’t, but his need to talk with Yuuri about an entirely different subject was doubly derailed: first by Yuuri’s state of inebriation, then by Yuuri’s proclamation asking Viktor to be his coach, of all things.

He’d been off ice for two years. He supposed it was a natural conclusion, to wonder if he would coach anyone, and to want him to do as much. It wasn’t what Viktor had planned for himself, but as he coaxed Yuuri’s room number from him and shifted him around, supporting his weight as they walked out of the room, he gave the thought some consideration.

Vain consideration. He was a dog most the time. A toy poodle. He couldn’t see over the boards. He only had short periods where he could use borrowed, collected magical energy to be human and skate to show progress that his most determined sponsors and fans counted as evidence that one day Viktor Nikiforov would come back to the ice from his purported “injury”. How could he coach?

Yuuri’s magic was leaking badly, a warmth that ebbed and flowed against Viktor like a tide. It was distracting even as Yuuri was distracting: Viktor wasn’t sure why at first. It was hardly his first time being hit on by a drunk, and it wasn’t his first time supporting a drunk _someone_ back to where they were staying. Usually he was at least halfway to inebriated himself, too, but he didn’t have that luxury anymore.

Still, here was Yuuri, staring up at him with unfairly big brown eyes, eyes much more lovely than Viktor remembered them being before. Swaying at Viktor’s side, holding onto him, watching him, failing to move when the lift doors slid open.

Wait, the doors! Viktor jerked his head up, propelling them both forward to a startled protest from Yuuri. They made it out through the doors before they closed, Viktor staring over his shoulder and breathing out in a sigh of relief.

Yuuri seemed to find the whole thing hysterical, laughing into one hand as subtly as he could. It wasn’t all that subtle, Yuuri’s whole frame shaking with his mirth his magic alive with the sensation. Viktor cracked a smile, breathing out in a huff of his own amusement. “We were going to miss our floor,” he said, and Yuuri nodded, offering no words.

“What’s your room number?”

Yuuri managed to stop laughing, breaking into occasional giggles instead while pointing toward one side of the lift lobby. “That way,” wasn’t the answer Viktor’d asked for, but he’d already forgotten the room number from when Yuuri had first said it. 513, or 531?

528, it turned out, Viktor wondering where in the world he’d gotten the two other numbers from as Yuuri triumphantly shoved the electronic key into the lock and watched the light blink green. “Take that, door!” Yuuri pressed down on the handle, lurching forward into the darkness. He paused two steps in, running his hand over the wall, tone of voice dipping down closer to a pout.

“Where’d the switch go?”

Viktor hesitated, leaning in and allowing his eyes to adjust to see if he could find the switch near the door. It turned out to be behind Yuuri, just within reach without Viktor stepping inside. He flicked it on and bit back a laugh as Yuuri yelped, stumbling back into him.

“Wow,” Yuuri said, staring at his room, then craning his neck to look back at Viktor. “You really _do_ light up the whole room.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s just the electricity. Drink water and try not to regret too much in the morning, okay?” There was a chance Yuuri would be at Worlds, right? Viktor could try again there, when Yuuri was sober. Even if he didn’t want to leave the lingering warmth of both man and magic pressed against his front, those were impulses ill suited for the moment they were in. 

An idea struck, Viktor’s eyes brightening as he gently nudged Yuuri off his chest, the door barely kept open as it pressed back against them. “Yuuri, can I give you my number?”

“Huh?” Yuuri pressed his palms against the door and pushed against it as Viktor helped him get moving. The door appeared to be losing, to Yuuri’s delighted grin. “I don’t know, can you?” He snickered, amused by what he’d said.

“If you give me your phone, yes.” 

Escaping past the door, Yuuri kept walking, then paused. He turned around with a frown, holding his hand up and making a scooping gesture with his palm parallel to the ground. “Why’re you still there? Come come,” he said, swaying gently in place. Yuuri repeated the motion, frown still in place.

“I wasn’t invited?”

Yuuri made an unflattering snorting sound, Viktor quirking his eyebrows as he stepped inside and allowed the door to close behind him. “Are you a vampire now?”

“Not last I checked.” Siphoning magical energy off a crowd didn’t equate to absorbing life-force through blood-drinking or blood-letting. Not that he figured Yuuri was really concerned, but still, it was the principle of the matter.

Yuuri just giggled again, sitting down on his bed with a bouncing thud. He fished his phone out of his pocket after an extended moment of intense concentration, brandishing it out and over to Viktor with a grin as he swayed in place. “Ta-dah!”

Viktor held out his hand, waiting for Yuuri to set his phone in it. Which Yuuri did—with the lock screen still on.

“Ah, Yuuri, did you want to unlock your phone?”

“No.” Yuuri stuck his hand out anyway, the flush over his cheeks darkening. “Yes. Maybe.” Once the phone was given over, he tapped out his unlock code, returning the phone once more to Viktor.

He stared down at it in his hand. Everything was in Japanese, but he looked for an app icon that seemed appropriate as he figured out how to add himself to Yuuri’s contacts. His number didn’t prove to be a problem, but when it came time to add his name, all he managed was finding a dog emoji. Appropriate, but not helpful. 

“Here. That’s my number, but I have no idea how to write my name, so I’ll leave that up to you.”

“You don’t know how to write your name?” Yuuri looked so delightfully perplexed, Viktor had to bite back a chuckle.

“Not in Japanese,” he said with a wink. “I can recognise it, but not write it.” He’d seen it pointed out to him often enough to more or less figure he knew the related characters.

Yuuri broke out into an embarrassed smile, slapping a hand over his mouth to choke back an outright laugh. He didn’t nod, but he did let his hand drop away after a moment, expression gaining an edge of intense concentration as he filled in the name field to Viktor’s contact information. 

After, he simply stared at his phone in silence. Viktor shifted his weight, wanting to speak, but not sure he had time to say any of what he wanted to say.

“You’re really real.” Yuuri still cradled his phone in his hands, a small, dopey grin on his face. He looked up to Viktor, all big-eyed happiness, listing to the left. “The clock struck midnight and everything’s not pumpkins.”

What did pumpkins have to do with anything? Viktor blinked, brushing off the passing confusion and offering a smile. “No pumpkins,” he agreed. “Just me. Drink the water and sleep, okay? Maybe fill out that breakfast thing so you have food here before you’re racing out in the morning.”

“Okay. I will. Viktor?” Yuuri reached out to him as he turned away, hand open, an almost pleading tone to his voice as he continued speaking. “You’re coming back, right? You’ll be back on the ice. You’re healing?”

“I can only hope.” Viktor paused as the cold touch of the curse’s magic cascaded down his spine. The truth struck him a minute too late: Yuuri wasn’t talking nonsense. It was midnight. 

Viktor’s time had run out. 

He paled, heart pounding in his chest as he tried bolting for the door. Yuuri’s sharp, surprised inhalation cut through the space behind him as the magic took over, Viktor collapsing on the floor with the aching pressure that accompanied the change. He hit with his shoulder, slamming his eyes shut as the world contorted around him, fabric encasing him in suddenly unwelcome layers. He heard Yuuri calling out in a panic, the thud of feet on the ground and knees hitting the carpet and hands patting and pulling at a jacket he felt slipping away.

He kept his eyes closed until he felt the pressure lift, his nose twitching and paws flexing as he regained control over himself. Viktor kicked and squirmed and wiggled his way forward, snout poking out of the collar of his shirt as the weight on his back lessened. He won his head free, followed by a paw and a shoulder, his other paw trapped at his side.

Yuuri knelt next to him, pale and breathing too shallowly. His hands hovered, fluttering like hummingbirds, uncertain of where to alight. 

“Viktor? Viktor, shit, it’s really you, that’s you, right, you didn’t just disappear, this isn’t a trick, you’re not dead, I’m not dreaming I’m _not_ dreaming I’m _not_ —”

“You’re not dreaming, Yuuri.” Viktor squirmed harder, finding himself firmly caught in the confines of his own shirt. He sighed, flopping down, perking his ears up and looking Yuuri’s way without moving his head. “Help, please? I don’t want to ruin my shirt.”

Yuuri’s disbelieving semi-hysterical laughter cut through his panic, enough that his hands finally came down and patted Viktor awkwardly over his shoulders. “That’s your biggest concern?”

Viktor huffed, turning his head to give Yuuri his second best Baleful Gaze™. “Yuuri. It’s _nice._ ” And unlike other aspects of his life, it was fully under his control. 

Yuuri didn’t sober up, per say, but he did hum under his breath, lifting his hands away from Viktor to consider the problem. “If you scoot backward, I should be able to pull the shirt off you?”

Viktor’s plan of pushing forward wasn’t working out, so he gave a mental shrug and squirmed back, trying to pull his head and shoulder out of the collar. Yuuri grabbed ahold while Viktor wiggled, Yuuri rolling the shirt up from the bottom while Viktor kept walking backward until his tail broke free, then his haunches, and finally the rest of him.

It left him facing Yuuri on four paws while Yuuri held Viktor’s shirt up against his chest, wide-eyed. Both men stared at each other, the silence stretching between them fragile with a tension Viktor wasn’t sure how to read.

In the end Yuuri cut through it, swallowing hard as he lowered Viktor’s shirt into his lap. The shaking of his hands was still visible, only stilled once they were fisted in the cotton fabric. “So, um. It’s a dog eat dog world out there, huh?”

Viktor’s mouth dropped open and he laughed.

* * *

“Is this why you’re not skating?”

It’d taken five minutes of staring and a tentative touch of a finger to Victor’s face (Yuuri might have been aiming for his nose or an ear, but he managed to poke Victor on his cheek) for Yuuri to not-so calmly decide this might be real. Viktor had patiently responded to every question and statement, and now they were here. He fought off the urge to scratch behind an ear, swallowing the sense of dissatisfaction coiling in his stomach. “It’s difficult skating when you’re a dog. Coordination’s terrible.”

Yuuri cracked a small, temporary smile, brow furrowed. “Yeah. I imagine.” He went quiet, biting his lower lip, eyes falling away from Viktor. “Magic’s not supposed to be real.”

It sounded like a confession, like he wanted reassurance. Viktor couldn’t give him that, didn’t know how someone with as much magic as Yuuri had would ever want to turn away, but maybe that was how he’d lived his life. Maybe Sochi was the exception to his control.

Viktor closed his eyes, sighing internally. When they opened again, he perked his ears forward, focusing on Yuuri and Yuuri alone.

“For most people, it isn’t. It can be a choice.” He waited for Yuuri to look up. When it didn’t happen, Viktor kept speaking. “Even people with magic can turn away when their magic’s under control.”

“Can you?”

Viktor blinked, caught off guard. “Pardon?”

“When you know about something, can you really turn away?” Yuuri lifted his head, setting his shoulders. He radiated determination, something Viktor felt through the brush of Yuuri’s magic as much as in the tone of his voice. “I don’t get why you’re telling me all this like it’s something I should know, but now that I do, am I just supposed to ignore it?”

Viktor was struck dumb as what Yuuri said registered. “I...”

“Then you tell me you’re cursed, and I—I’m supposed to ignore that?”

“I’m not saying you should,” Viktor said, brow furrowing in concern. _Yuuri didn’t know he was leaking magic?_

“Good! Because you’ll come back, right? When this curse is figured out, you’ll come back to skating?”

_Yuuri doesn’t know he has magic._

“I’m planning to if I can, but Yuuri…” 

“Then—” Yuuri leaned forward, slammed one hand on the ground and held the other up in a fist by his face. “I’ll help! We can break this curse and then you can skate again!” His surprisingly intense gaze focused on Viktor, eyes bright with the possibilities. “Even if I don’t have magic—”

“You do.”

“—I can still help figure out—wait, what?” His clenched fist lowered, blinking as his brain caught up with what he was hearing. “I do what?”

“Have magic. You remember what happened in the restroom?”

Yuuri was already flushed, but his flush intensified as he made a noise of acknowledgement in the back of his throat. He swallowed, eyes darting to the side. “Yes?”

“That was magic. Not mine, but yours.” Viktor watched as Yuuri deflated, head dropping down as he sat back, pulling in on himself. “No one’s ever mentioned that to you before?” It seemed improbable that someone would reach Yuuri’s age without having anyone around them notice what was happening, or that nothing had come of it, but it wasn’t impossible.

“No. No one’s ever said a thing.” Yuuri fell silent. “But, if that’s true…” He looked up again, the same determination shining in his eyes. “That’s good, right? It means I can help!”

Viktor cracked a canine grin, tail wagging once as he wondered how bad an idea all of this might be. The happy enthusiasm he’d sold himself on earlier was weighed down now by the reality: Yuuri wasn’t aware of his own magic, which meant a whole different level of necessary instruction just to be safe. Was Viktor even qualified to help? Yakov would say no, even if Viktor had been helping with Yuri Plisetsky’s training since he’d come under Yakov’s wing.

Viktor was a fully licensed magic practitioner, without a stated speciality. He’d always figured he’d find one after he retired from the competitive circuit and went into professional figure skating. There’d always been _time_ , in the future he’d never thought much about. 

Now there was Yuuri, and it wasn’t even Viktor’s own selfishness that could look past the fact Yuuri needed guidance. Guidance a wizard stuck as a magical girl mentor might not be able to offer.

“It may,” he said at last. “But now’s not a time for making big decisions. Be it on coaching or in helping break a curse.” Viktor forced himself to use a more cheerful tone of voice, sitting back on his haunches. He brought both legs up, sticking one foreleg out to waggle his paw in invitation. “You have my number. Call me after you’ve had time to think about it?”

Yuuri wasn’t satisfied, Viktor could sense that much, but his magic wasn’t carrying any hint of distress. He seemed to be containing himself, the brush of warmth against Viktor’s skin retreating until it was little more than a gentle presence he registered in the room. 

“Okay.” Yuuri took hold of Viktor’s paw, enfolding it in his hand. “I will.” They shook, sealing the deal. 

“There’s one more thing that I really hate to ask, but…”

Yuuri let go of Viktor’s paw, sitting up at attention. “Yeah?”

“Do you have one of those laundry bags we can put my suit into?”

Yuuri paused, pushing up to his feet with Viktor’s shirt in hand. “Yes, let me look, I’m sure there has to be one here somewhere!” Staggering off toward the closet, Viktor shook his head, endeared for no good reason and glad that whatever harebrained idea he’d had earlier in the night had been sidelined for now. Yuuri’s offer was an unexpected kindness.

It was really too bad Viktor couldn’t take him up on it in good conscience.

Between the two of them, Viktor shoving his socks into his shoes and Yuuri taking care of the painfully careful folding of Viktor’s pants, jacket, and tie, Viktor had his things together and in readily mobile form before long. 

“I… guess this is goodbye?”

“More of a see you later, right?”

Yuuri smiled, expression wan. “Right.”

Viktor waited for Yuuri to move, but Yuuri mostly stared down at him. Viktor looked between Yuuri and the door, hoping he’d understand why before much longer.

“Aren’t you going to… oh. Oh! I’m sorry, Viktor, let me get that for you—” Yuuri leaned over him and took hold of the handle, pulling the heavy hotel door open wide enough for Viktor and his bag to pass through.

He stood with a single approving wag of his tail belying the fact he didn’t enjoy needing this kind of help in the first place. “Thank you! Goodnight, Yuuri. Call me!”

Yuuri mumbled something about, “If I have the nerve,” but Viktor couldn’t reply, mouth full of plastic handle as he trotted out into the hall, dragging along his suit. He gave a reassuring wag of his tail, then he was off. He might not have achieved what his stupid, over-eager heart had wanted, but it wasn’t like he had reason to really believe he would have in the first place. Other people weren’t simply _solutions_. With any luck, the two of them might be able to help each other out in the future, but not right now.

The future wasn’t set in stone. That much Viktor believed in. And if he didn’t happen to notice that they’d both forgotten to fold Viktor’s shirt in with the rest of his things… well, that was just another opportunity down the line.

Worst come to worst, Viktor could always show up in Detroit to ask for his shirt back.

* * *

“Hey, Old Man, have you seen the news?” Yuri frowned, wrinkling his nose and glaring down at his phone screen. Viktor looked up from where he was perched on the platform built up by the boards, allowing Yakov’s “service dog” to see him at all times. Most people training at the rink thought he was cute, but kept their hands to themselves by Yakov’s request. Viktor appreciated it for the most part, though sometimes he wished someone would simply run a hand over his fur like he used to do with Makkachin. 

Yuri held out his phone, close to thrusting it in Viktor’s face. He’d pointed out he couldn’t focus at that distance before, but he didn’t have to read; Yuri was already narrating for him.

“Looks like there was an incident at the Japanese Championships a few months ago. Your drunken idiot was there.” 

Viktor pulled his head back, using one eye to look at the screen. He spoke in a low murmur, reaching out to sniff at the phone like he was more interested in the odd object Yuri was holding out to him than what was being said. “Did they say what happened?”

Yuri _tsked_ , pulling his phone away again. He leaned back against the boards, hooking his elbows over the top. Viktor stepped up on top of the boards proper, letting his tongue loll out as he cocked his head to the side and waited for Yuri to elaborate.

“No one exactly knows. Shadows moving on their own, people getting hit with a surge of fear or fright or nerves. I don’t know, it doesn’t say much. The investigation’s inconclusive.”

“Did it say what happened to Yuuri?”

Yuri shot him a sideways glare, frown intensifying. “ _I’m_ Yuri.”

“And his name is Yuuri.” Viktor allowed himself to speak a little louder, rolling the stressed vowel more than necessary. “Not the point, Yura.”

There was another sharp scoffing sound as Yuri glared back out across the rink. Yakov watched Georgi go through part of his choreography, shouting for him to start from the beginning of his step sequence while Mila listening with an air of amusement. For the moment, neither of them had their coach’s attention.

“He crashed. Into the ice, and into seventeenth at the competition. He doesn’t come up except to be listed as one of those affected.” Yuri grimaced, scowling while Yakov continued to present his back to them. “You know something’s up, don’t you.” 

Viktor panted, acting the part of the dog he was supposed to be. “I may.”

Yuri went quiet, shoulders tense. “Does it have to do with _him_?”

He looked sideways at Yuri, ceasing panting. “Awh, Yura, I didn’t realise you cared! I’ll have to let Yuuri know he has a fan worrying about him from all the way over in Saint Petersburg—”

Yuri spun around, fiercely scratching behind Viktor’s ears. It brought them eye to eye, Yuri ducking his head down to meet Viktor’s gaze. “ _Shut up._ I’m telling you if you know what’s going on, _fix it_. You were acting like a idiotic puppy when you saw him last time.” Yuri frowned, narrowing his eyes as he leaned in until their noses were nearly touching. His hand dropped away, back to resting on the boards. “You don’t just do that. Something weird was up back then too.”

Viktor wagged his tail in a friendly way, licking the tip of Yuri’s nose. There were times where Yuri was astoundingly perceptive; and other times he was astoundingly dense. Yuri pulled back and wiped at his nose with a hiss of outraged disgust.

“Ugh, gross! What was that for?!” Jabbing a finger at Viktor in his outrage, Yuri looked a bit like a startled kitten. A cute, offended kitten with too much talent and too much faith in his own infallibility. Viktor felt his tail lift and wag in appreciation of his own observation. 

“You have a point! Tell Yakov I’m heading out for a while, I’ll be back before your ice time’s over!” Turning and trotting down the attached ramp, Viktor hit the floor and beelined for Yakov’s “doggie” bag with Yuri shouting something he didn’t register in the background.

He was midway through fishing out his phone when he felt the vibration of a message received. Using his teeth to snag the case, he pulled it free, looking for a corner he could hide in. Using his phone was a masterpiece in applied pressure, but he’d had the trick of it down for well over a year. Not to mention if he was too fed up he could use a stylus holding it in mouth; he’d had to rely on similar things in the past.

His message indicator blinked up at him, lazily insistent. The icon read for two new messages and a few interactions with his Instagram; he could see his International Magic News Network app was lit up too. He doubted there’d be anything more current or personally relevant than what Yuri had shared earlier, so he ignored it. The messages were more curious, particularly when he realised they both came from the same unknown number.

_This is Yuuri  
Magic doesn’t summon demons does it?_


	3. flights of fancy and necessity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Yuuri has a drink, and Viktor learns what it's like flying cargo class.

Yuuri’s attempt to self-medicate at one of the airport bars was proceeding dubiously well, his backpack keeping him company on the stool to his left. He lifted his glass of water, taking a sip before alternating with another sip from the glass of his _Wonderful Wizard of Oz_. Wry humour coiled in his chest at the recollection of its name. Yuuri breathed out in a snort after swallowing.

Viktor said he was a wizard, didn’t he? Maybe he’d have an idea how to get Yuuri out of this rabbit-hole he’d found himself in, with shadows constantly moving in his peripheral vision and dancing just out of reach. That was mixing metaphors, wasn’t it? Oz didn’t have rabbit-holes, Wonderland did. Oz was twisters and witches and wizards in Emerald Towers and Toto.

He closed his eyes. Yuuri tapped his finger against the back of his phone, a too fresh ache pulling him out of his thoughts as he examined the frolicking images of poodles across the back. Vicchan wouldn’t be waiting on the far side of the Pacific. Yuuri was coming back home, a failure with fraying sanity, his coaching contract with Celestino officially ended as of signing paperwork last night. He had his degree, he had his belongings sold or condensed down to his backpack and the luggage waiting to be stored in the belly of the plane bearing him home, and he had no idea what was coming next.

A shadow crawled across the ceiling of the bar, flowing around the hanging lights and giving him a playful wag of finger-like digits in the mirror’s reflection. Yuuri lifted his hand, dread settling in his stomach as he waved back. The shadow lost defined shape with a happy burbling he felt more than heard, pressing flat to the ceiling and disappeared as if it’d never been.

Yuuri took another long swallow of alcohol, trying to keep himself from laughing in disbelief or screaming in frustration. He’d been feeling more and more tightly strung since Nationals; back then he’d felt half on fire, like a candle burning at both ends. His exhaustion was impossible to understand; he’d slept like the dead. Yet he had bags under his eyes and flinched at the faces he swore he saw in every dark corner before, after, and during his free skate. 

He still didn’t know how he pulled through to the end of his program after the worst falls of his competitive career. It’d been miraculous he hadn’t injured himself. Most the media assumed he had in their attempts at explaining his terrible showing, but aside from bruises, Yuuri was physically untouched.

Mentally was another matter. The anxiety that clawed out of his chest and up his throat refused to allow oxygen back into his lungs for a half hour after he stepped off the ice. Celestino was preparing to bring him to a clinic on the medical team’s recommendation with how laboured his breathing was when it’d stopped just as suddenly as it’d started.

Yuuri knew what his panic attacks felt like. He knew they could be slow builds that hit after weeks of hinting; he knew they could come out of nowhere and hit with equal force. He’d been reacting like he was having a panic attack, but all of it was _wrong_. It was like he was being stalked and taunted by his own fears taking on nebulous physical form, slipping between shadows everywhere he went. 

Soon enough he hated stepping outside at night or in the mornings before the sun had driven the world back into light. It felt too much like the dark hungered, watching with eyes that glittered unseen in its depths, licking lips as that unnamed something stalked ever closer.

What was happening? He wasn’t used to living with a sense of paranoia over things he couldn’t name as opposed to the fractured relationship he had with his belief in his skating skills. Those had taken blows over the years, but even at his worst, even now, Yuuri hadn’t given up. Never being good enough, fighting for a chance he’d never get to prove his worth to Viktor Nikiforov, his idol from his tween years and through all his teenage and adult life, those were things he knew. 

Paranoia that something was actually out there waiting to consume everything that made him Yuuri wasn’t something he knew. That new feeling built in his chest, threatening to capsize under his weight of emotion. Yuuri knew he could swallow himself whole, but those dark, lurking shapes in shadows weren’t part of him. It wasn’t Yuuri sabotaging himself for once, unless he’d experienced that much of a break with reality following Vicchan’s death. 

There were other possibilities, of course, including the one Viktor had stated as fact months before. Viktor, who had done the impossible twice, going from silver toy poodle to man, then man to silver toy poodle. Yuuri thought he’d dreamed the whole thing before he found Viktor’s contact information in his phone and faced the improbability of his late night conversation after the Grand Prix Final. Yuuri had magic, his idol was cursed to be a dog, and tipsy-logic fueled Yuuri had believed for a grand few minutes he could solve his idol’s problem and get him back on the ice where he belonged, where Yuuri could face him as an equal and… 

Fail fantastically, if his track record this season was anything to go by. He’d been excused from both Four Continents and the World Championship following the disaster at Nationals, messing with his standings on the international level. Which wasn’t the only problem; even if his ineptitude on ice could be corrected, his complete lack of understanding of _magic_ meant he’d be even more useless helping Viktor with his curse than facing Viktor on the ice.

_So why’d I text him?_ He didn’t know what to do. Skating was something he figured out for himself. Magic, the things that stalked him in the shadows, those he didn’t know how to handle, and he didn’t know who would.

Swirling the remains of his alcohol in his glass and studying the peppering of kiwifruit seeds decorating the bottom, he wished he could just pass out for the whole plane trip home. Having longer where he didn’t need to deal with his present reality was appealing.

His phone vibrated underhand. Yuuri set his three-quarter empty glass down and flipped it over. He half expected Minako’s name to flash on his screen, checking on his flight times to compare to the train schedules coming out from the airport. Instead Viktor’s name flashed at him, spelled out phonetically in katakana.

_Viktor._ An incoming call from Viktor? Shit, he didn’t want to talk to him! He wanted to hide behind words and text messages and to bury his head under pillows and scream until he he wore himself out enough to sleep and the world could just pass him by. His heart raced, anticipation and fear mingling in his chest. He wanted to answer. He wanted to toss the phone across the bar.

Yuuri tapped his finger down and swiped to answer the call as he cleared his throat. His tongue felt heavy and fat in his now dry mouth as he spoke.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Yuuri? It’s Viktor. I just got your texts. Where are you right now?”

Yuuri stared blankly down at his drink, shoulders tensing. His voice sounded too high when he spoke. “An airport bar?”

The pause on Viktor’s end couldn’t have been more than half a second. Yuuri swore it lasted for minutes.

“Where are you flying?” Viktor tone stayed light and curious. Yuuri tried reading for any hint of censure, expecting there to be something like an accusation. _Are you running away?_ He found none.

“Home,” he said after a pause, clenching the fingers of his free hand into a loose fist. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been texting you—” He cut himself off, falling quiet. He shouldn’t be bothering Viktor with his problems, even if they were problems Viktor pointed out needed to be addressed. Viktor had his own magic nonsense to deal with. He was a _dog_. Yuuri at least still had thumbs.

“Yuuri, it’s fine, I said text me whenever.” Another pregnant pause. “Have you talked to anyone about what’s going on with you?”

He breathed in, counting to three. Breathed out to another count of three, feeling no calmer. “Only you,” he said, voice quiet. 

“Ah.” Nothing more, just the acknowledgement. “Then let me reassure you, magic doesn’t summon demons unless you’re trying. I’m going to make a guess that you haven’t tried?”

Yuuri breathed out in a huff, as close to laughing as he felt like coming. “No, not even close. There’s been… a lot. Life’s been busy, and this… I haven’t done anything with this.”

“What is it that made you want to ask?”

“Not demons, apparently.” He cracked a smile only the bartender and the businessman sitting further down the counter watching whatever sport was playing on the monitor could see. 

“No, it’s unlikely. But that doesn’t mean there isn’t something there. Part of magic is trusting what you’re sensing.”

Trusting himself was one of the hardest things for Yuuri to do on his good days. On days like the ones he’d been having, it felt next to impossible.

“Yuuri?”

He opened his eyes, unaware when they’d closed. It helped keep him from seeing the friendlier shadows, but it did nothing for the less friendly ones that roamed his mind in memories. “Hey, sorry, I’m still here. Would… is it normal to feel like you’re being watched? Not all the time or anything, just sometimes, when it’s dark? Like it’s…” He trailed off, tracing one finger along the rim of his water glass.

“Like it’s what?”

The prompting helped, even as it sparked a frisson of irritation. He didn’t want to find words to frame what was happening. Couldn’t Viktor make this easier by just _knowing_? “Like it’s hungry.” He lifted his water, taking a sip to wash the taste of those words out of his mouth. He hated saying it, getting that same unnerving feeling as he’d had the last time he’d thought to go jogging after dark.

“Yuuri, have you been able to see anyone for this?”

The sharp spike of pain in his chest made him gasp. Viktor didn’t believe him. Or Viktor thought Yuuri was seeing what wasn’t there, and if he thought that, he might be right. Viktor kept talking, but Yuuri didn’t hear the words, trying to understand the sudden sense of unfair betrayal taking root in his chest. It didn’t make sense, and he knew it wasn’t rational, but he couldn’t vanquish the feeling.

“... act as a coach and…”

“I don’t have one,” he said, blurting it out as his hand tightened around his phone. “No coaches. None.”

“None?”

“None.”

“For skating or for magic?”

“Both,” he said, a nervous shiver leaving him more tense than before. He’d needed to get away, needed to end his contract, needed to go home as much of a mess as he was and figure out how to face the world and what was left of his dreams from there. “The plane’s boarding, I have to go.”

“Yuuri, please—”

“Talk to you later!” He pulled his phone away from his ear, tapping on the end call icon while Viktor was still speaking words Yuuri didn’t allow himself to hear. He shoved his phone into his coat pocket, ignoring the vibrations that followed. He paid for his drink, gulping down water to set it back down and bow his head to the bartender when she glanced his way. She shot him a smile and a wave as he turned and left, slinging his backpack over a shoulder, both head and heart in turmoil.

He had twenty hours of flight ahead of him. Hopefully he could sleep most of it off and deal with whatever came next once he touched down back home. If he was lucky, things would work themselves out by the time he got there. If he was even luckier, his haunted shadows wouldn’t be a problem once he was back home.

He already had to carry the weight of his defeat across his parent’s threshold. He’d prefer not to add magic and hungry haunts to the list of baggage hauled home with him. There was enough to figure out without shadows pulling at his attention, or darkness creeping closer just to try and swallow him whole.

* * *

Most of Viktor’s growing list of regrets were related to the decision to ship himself overseas in the cargo hold of an airplane. He hired two different pet transporters, one for each end of the flight. Most his belongings remained stacked in Yakov’s spare bedroom, where they’d been brought and placed away when Viktor’s flat had gone back on market. Others were messily marked with sticky-notes between his efforts (and subsequent teeth and drool marks on the paper) and Yuri’s running commentary for packing and shipping.

“Why do you even need this junk anyway?”

Said junk included a semi-decent wardrobe, notebooks, his favourite coffee table artbook, three of his favourite novels, and a framed photograph of himself from his last short program performance at Worlds. He carefully set Makkachin’s favourite chew-toy in an open box while Yuri flopped down onto his stomach, taking over the space of the narrow bed Viktor slept on.

“Did you finish labeling my old costume bags?”

Yuri flicked the near-empty pad of sticky-notes at Viktor. “Again, why do you need any of that? Why was it even still packed up? I bet moths have eaten everything anyway.”

Viktor continued to let him postulate and complain, one ear swiveling around to listen as he spoke. Yuri fell quiet, Viktor using a paw to scoot the remaining sticky-notes toward the door.

“When are you coming back?”

Viktor’s ear twitched, catching the underlying concern. He didn’t believe it was for him, not with Yuri, but it was likely related to him in some fashion. It was hard to say. Yuri kept himself closed off and defensive, not terribly receptive to guidance outside of what he sometimes followed due to his respect for Yakov. Part of it was age, he supposed. Part of it was resentment living under the shadow of a man who wasn’t really there.

“Is little Yura going to miss me?” Viktor turned his head, fixing Yuri with a bright look and a happy, loopy canine grin. 

Viktor ducked the pillow that came flying his way, tail wagging jauntily as it hit the ground behind him.

“Not even close! Not having to deal with your irritating face is going to be good, except you _owe_ me.” Yuri sat up, cross his arms over his chest and glaring down at Viktor.

Viktor hadn’t the faintest idea what he meant. He turned his head to regard the smattering of luggage and boxes with sticky-notes on them, shifting his weight from side to side. “Oh?” He looked back to Yuri, watching his shoulders hunch up toward his ears.

“Yeah!” Yuri explained nothing, seeming to believe he’d managed to inform Viktor of everything in an affirmation. “Like you promised!”

Viktor’s blank stare earned him a flat stare in return.

“You don’t remember, do you.”

It was difficult to be sheepish as a dog; all his natural instincts didn’t quite work the same way. Viktor tipped his head to the side, tongue lolling out of his mouth, ears perked half-forward as he gave a slow wag of his tail. “Nope! I’m sorry, I’ve completely forgotten!” 

“My senior debut _short program_ , idiot!” Yuri pushed off the bed and stomped out the door, slamming it shut behind him. More than a minor inconvenience if Viktor needed to get back out anytime soon.

Viktor considered Yuri’s claim as he checked over the labeled boxes. When had he made that promise? He didn’t doubt he’d made that promise, but it couldn’t have been in recent times. He hadn’t made many promises to forget since the whole doggie business started up, which meant it was from at least two years ago, possibly more.

He didn’t have an answer by the time Yakov came and opened the door to invite him to dinner, nor did he particularly need one. The reminder was motivation enough. If he was making the decision to work with Yuuri Katsuki, working with a skater whose strengths and failings he knew much more intimately at the same time would be to his benefit.

Viktor’s packing was finished two days later, which was a full five days before being caught in the liminal space of the airport and cargo processing for the first time in his life. 

Once there, he couldn’t remember a time when he was in greater danger of being _bored_. 

The plane ride itself was a different experience, Viktor packed in tight in an insulated compartment and left breathing recycled air in the pressurized cargo bay. Two other dogs were on the same flight. He smelled them, but both stayed quiet for the duration, leaving him alone to his thoughts. 

He’d done his best to sleep between coming up with plans to help Yuuri with his two-fold challenges, if Yuuri had been serious back in his drunken haze months ago. Viktor was serious about him needing to handle his budding magic. Guiding someone in the top of his sport for ways to continue to push himself forward would be pure pleasure on top of that.

His hope that events would start picking up speed after landing were quashed as he was carted off to quarantine. He knew his paperwork checked out, and the quarantine staff were efficient and relatively kind, for all he understood little of what they said. Still, by the time he’d been released to the care of the middle-aged man picking him and his luggage up for transportation to Hasetsu, he was more than ready to hit the road.

Viktor fell into a dreamless sleep in the car, tension fading as the kilometers rolled past. Hasetsu was a series of photographs he’d investigated online, trusting in translators to take the city’s information site and make it almost understandable. What he could glean was a mix of useful and anything but, offering him only a little insight into the place where Yuuri had grown up. He looked forward to coming to understand it in person.

He stretched and yawned as they hit the outskirts of town, bracing his paws on the door to stare out the window. Dusk fell over the horizon sometime during their drive, but with the overcast skies, it made little difference. Fat snowflakes drifted down in lazy spirals, a strange dissonance for his expectations of spring. He saw trees covered in blossoms as they drove down narrow streets, weighed down by the dusting of snow. It was as if the storm had blown in with him.

Fanciful as the notion was, it stuck with him as he hopped out of the car after his transporter parked. It’d been snowing in St. Petersburg when he left. Maybe it was thematically appropriate that it’d be snowing in Hasetsu when he arrived.

The cold under his paws grounded him as he breathed in, head up, ears perked forward. He walked into the courtyard beyond his transporter’s vehicle, noting the lights on at the front of the building across the open space. There was a van to one side, flag-poles and what he guessed might be shrines of some kind arranged around the outskirts. A fence kept part of the right side of the structure separate. He wandered toward it, wondering what lay beyond. 

Snow blanketed the area, turning an already unfamiliar landscape into something softened and surreal. Viktor’s pawprints trailed behind him, the only impressions on the snow’s pristine surface. Everything was muffled in the early evening quiet, the murmur of voices and shifting of baggage registering in the background as Viktor wound his way closer to the fence. 

After some investigation, he found a gap he could wiggle through, pushing past the loose board covering it from the inside. More cultivated garden greeted him on the other side. Slipping past a bush laden down by snow, Viktor sniffed at the airas he walked. The faint scent of cigarette smoke and even fainter scents of seafood and rice and alcohol lingered.

In his distracted attempt to make sense of what his nose told him, he almost stepped off the rock ledge he was following into a small pond. Scrabbling backward, Viktor stuck his neck out, peering down at the water. Snowflakes swirled past his head to disappear as they touched the surface, leaving small rings in their wake. The familiarity of his canine reflection was lost in the ripples. If there were fish underneath that dark surface, he couldn’t see them now.

He shook off, skirting the pool toward the far side. Poles were spaced in even rows in that section of the yard, line stretching between them in generous loops. Beyond them stood a statue outlined in snow, the dusting left behind from the most recent storm. The whole garden looked caught off-guard by the out of season weather. 

The large sakura tree at the corner of the garden by the house drove that impression home, its gnarled branches curving skyward, laden by an abundance of lightly fragrant flowers and its own cape of snow. The image it provoked was striking enough for Viktor to go still, taking it in. He saw the pink of the flowers, the dark brown of the bark, the starkness of white against both, and the weight of the stormy skies hanging overhead. 

Colour. Colour that faded when he was away from the siphoned magic that allowed him to return to his true form. If he was seeing in full colour, Yuuri was nearby. Not only that, he was diffusing enough magic into the world around him that Viktor was being swept up by it. This was what Yuuri was contending with on his own.

It was a miracle nothing further had happened yet. 

Now that he was looking for it, Viktor recognised the warm touch of magic against his senses from after the Grand Prix Final. The feeling intensified, the warmth gaining an edge of heat that itched against his skin. He heard feet pounding through the house beside him, one ear twisting to follow the sound. Viktor stared at the tree under overcast skies, snowflakes catching in his fur, in his eyelashes.

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d found snow so beautiful.

Caught up in a feeling of wonder and appreciation of what the world could provide, his ears twitched when his named was called out across the snowy yard. 

“Viktor?!”

The warm pressure of magic rolled over him like a wave crashing against the shore. His change was as swift as it had been sitting in Yuuri’s lap at Sochi. Where Viktor sat as a dog he now sat as a man, colder and in the nude. He rallied to push off the ground, turning to face Yuuri with a smile and an extended hand, lacking any other ready response. Any rehearsed words from his reflections while traveling flew out of his head as he winged it instead.

“Yuuri! Starting now, I’m your coach both on and off the ice. Your magical girl training begins today!”

Yuuri’s wordless protest echoed far louder than necessary, and Yuuri didn’t so much as move his way, but Viktor wasn’t deterred. Yuuri didn’t have a coach for figure skating, and for whatever reason he had believed Viktor could do it months ago, so Viktor would. Having Yuuri text him about his magic only made it all the more important that Viktor also try to help with the magical side of things. It was dangerous if Yuuri didn’t learn to control his magic and how it fed into the world around him now that it was awakened. For his sanity at the very least, and for himself and those around him at the very worst.

In the meantime Viktor wanted nothing more than to get dressed. Even if he’d be back to his dog form before too much longer, right now he was freezing. 


	4. first contact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Yuuri helps keep Viktor barely decent, and Viktor hits the streets with Yuuri to face down one of Yuuri's fears.

Yuuri was at a loss for words. Viktor Nikiforov stood naked in his garden. In his _parents_ garden. Viktor Nikiforov, out on medical recovery the last two seasons, rumoured to be wavering between retiring and coming back on the competitive circuit. Neither of these were happening because Viktor was cursed to dog form and standing naked in the snow in Yuuri’s family’s onsen garden over seven thousand kilometers away from Saint Petersburg.

He startled out of his shock, pulling his sweater off over his head and leaping from the wooden porch into the newly fallen snow. Yuuri dashed for Viktor in a mixture of panic, irritation, and concern. 

“My sister said there was a man here delivering a dog, but the dog slipped under the back fence. Then you’re here,” he said, shoving his sweater into Viktor’s chest, “Not a dog. What’s going on?”

He didn’t like the uplilt in his voice, highlighting his distress. It was too much to take in, and only marginally better as Viktor quirked up his eyebrows and pulled on Yuuri’s sweater while shifting from foot to foot.

“I believe I already said what’s going on with my end of things. Explaining what it means for you… well. One’s probably more obvious than the other.” Viktor smiled, pulling the sweater down far enough to be barely decent. Yuuri was a little surprised it fit, for a certain definition of fit. Moreover Viktor looked good, which was unfair considering Yuuri looked more comfortably frumpy in the exact same sweater.

Viktor jogged toward the walkway while Yuuri struggled with his thoughts. He turned around and ran after Viktor, catching hold of his hand when they were both on the deck to tug him along through a side door. “We have to get you upstairs without being seen,” he said, attempting to whisper and ending up sounding like a hissing kettle. Viktor looked amused but didn’t protest, allowing Yuuri to pull him along.

He ushered him up the stairs, lingering behind to ensure none of his family members were coming around the corner. He made shooing motions whenever Viktor turned to look back over his shoulder, so preoccupied that he only noticed how inadequate the coverage of his sweater on Viktor was as he hurried up after him. Viktor valiantly kept tugging the material down, but it’d inevitably creep back up, showing off more and more of…

Yuuri was a heartbeat away from dying on the stairs. He bounded upward, planting his hands on the small of Viktor’s back and nudging him forward. “Go, go, go!” he muttered, looking back over his shoulder and trying to ignore his flaming cheeks over the tantalising peek at Viktor’s cheeks he’d been getting while following behind his lifelong idol.

Viktor might be cursed to be a dog most the time, but he was also sometimes a very naked, very appealing man of twenty-seven years. Yuuri had never forgotten that, but he hadn’t thought he’d ever be dealing with that reality in such a direct manner. 

His luck held for the duration, his father busy in the back, his mother busy in the banquet hall. When he heard someone at the base of the stairs, he assumed it was Mari. Yuuri held back his irrational panic and shoved Viktor into the half open door of his room. He closed the door as swiftly as he could without slamming it shut, bracing one hand against the frame so the lock slid home with a quiet click.

He breathed out in a sigh of relief, resting his forehead against his closed door while thanking the universe at large that he’d managed to get Viktor unseen into his room. The question of what to do next was on the forefront of his mind. Viktor had explained why he was here, as senseless as it seemed. Would he be open to negotiating leaving?

Did Yuuri really want him to go?

“Wow.” Viktor’s low exhalation and the hint of awe in his voice prompted Yuuri into turning around, brow furrowed and a frown on his lips. He didn’t find anything _wow_ worthy about their present circumstances.

Viktor was finishing a slow turn of his own, knuckle of his index finger resting against his chin, eyes scanning Yuuri’s walls. The stupid sweater eked higher up Viktor’s thighs, but even that thought was abruptly cut off as Yuuri forced himself to look in the same direction as Viktor. His eyes widened as he registered at least seven different posters of Viktor Nikiforov from his early seniors career hung tacked up on his walls.

“No!” He yelled, face heating in embarrassment at his teenage self’s sense of decoration. Throwing himself at Viktor, Yuuri knocked them both off balance. They fell onto his bed, Yuuri bringing his hands up to cover Viktor’s eyes while throwing a knee to the outside of Viktor’s thigh to brace himself against his mattress. He ended up with Viktor half under him, Viktor’s hands wrapped around Yuuri’s forearms.

“Yuuri, I was just admiring the posters—”

“You can’t look! You didn’t see anything!”

“Yuuri.” Viktor squirmed further on the bed, pulling at his wrists. “I saw enough to be flattered by what press I had out five years ago. Wasn’t one of those posters Russian release only?”

Yuuri tried swallowing down the strangled noise of distress rising from his chest, failing miserably. “Please, will you just pretend to forget all that?”

Viktor gave his arms a gentle but firm squeeze. “There’s nothing about you I want to forget.” 

What the hell did _that_ mean? Yuuri pulled his hands back off Viktor’s eyes. “Is now when I ask if you actually watched the Grand Prix Final?” Had Viktor seen and been unable to forget what a mess of a skater Yuuri was, how far he had to go, and how unlikely he was going to come back from the humiliating disaster skates that followed? 

Viktor cocked his head to the side, brow furrowing while his lips pulled down into the start of a frown. “I was there, Yuuri. Why wouldn’t I have watched everyone skate?”

Yuuri didn’t have a ready answer, but the itching urge to shove off Viktor and burrow into the blankets at his side to pretend the world didn’t exist for a few more hours was overwhelming. He only held off because on most days he considered himself a halfway decent adult, and because he felt a shiver of an odd energy reverberating between them. He didn’t like it; unlike earlier when he’d responded to the pull that’d led him to Viktor out in his parent’s snow covered garden, this lacked the drawing warmth. It was an almost oily sensation brushing against his skin.

 _It’s magic_ , he realised, dread settling in his stomach as he felt Viktor’s _essence_ warp. Was that what he’d felt earlier as well as now? It seemed right on a gut level, Yuuri frozen in the moment of realisation before Viktor bloomed into a soft, silver light. It was the matter of a heartbeat before Viktor’s warmth beneath him changed. Curly fur and the same intense blue eyes looked up at him from the toy poodle trapped in the material of Yuuri’s sweater with a tuft of fur on his head caught up in a pretty little bow. Yuuri stared down at him with his mouth open, his stomach churning and threatening to be sick. It all happened so fast, and the brush of that twisted magic had been horrible.

Unaware of Yuuri’s thoughts, Viktor squirmed beneath him, trying to worm off his back and onto his belly. He succeeded in getting one paw shoved out through the collar of Yuuri’s sweater when the bedroom door opened. 

“Yuuri, get up and help us find this dog that’s loose somewhere on the property before Mama—”

Mari poked her head into his room, her frowning expression morphing into one of blinking surprise.

“You found the dog?” She quirked up her eyebrows.

Yuuri stumbled backward, leaving Viktor on his bed, paw waving pathetically in the air.

“It’s not what it looks like!”

Mari’s eyebrows hiked even higher. Her familiar look of disbelief had Yuuri hunching his shoulders forward.

“So that’s _not_ the mystery dog you’ve got wrapped in your sweater and squirming around on your bed?”

“I mean… it is?”

“Then how is it not what it looks like?”

Yuuri craned his neck to look back at Viktor, seeing he’d gotten both paws free and was clawing out of Yuuri’s sweater sideways. He sat up and huffed, tail wagging twice. The ridiculous bow on his head bounced as he glanced between Yuuri and Mari. 

“... It might be what it looks like.”

“Uh-huh. Whatever you say, Yuuri. Mama will be glad you found him, one way or another. Your new doggie friend there arrived with a bunch of boxes with Viktor Nikiforov’s name on them. They’re cluttering up the entry-hall. Might want haul them upstairs for whenever he shows.” She waved her hand, not all that concerned with the fine details, and stepped back out into the hall. Yuuri stared after her in confusion. Viktor brought boxes along with him?

He must have shipped them and arranged for them to arrive after he would be there. Viktor was nothing if not surprisingly resourceful.

Head still reeling, he didn’t see Mari pause at the threshold to lean against his doorframe. She cleared her throat, coughing into her closed fist.

“About the name thing…” She trailed off, eyes flicking over Viktor. “If there’s anything else you want us calling him, I know I won’t object.”

He took a moment to catch on, tamping down the brief burst of panic that Mari had guessed who _specifically_ was sitting on Yuuri’s bed. “Ah, it’s all right, Mari. I won’t be calling him Vicchan or anything. Whatever it is you want to do is fine, really.”

She snorted, canting her head to the side. “One poodle Viktor was enough for a lifetime. Careful, Curls, I’m going to think of the perfect nickname for you sooner or later.” Tossing Yuuri a wave, Mari pushed off the doorframe and headed back down the hall, calling out as she went. “Mama! Yuuri found the dog!”

Yuuri’s knees came close to giving out on him. He stumbled to the bed, sinking back down on the mess of quilt and pillows and sheets, one hand pressed against his sternum. His heart threatened leap out of his chest if he didn’t hold it in place.

A paw on his thigh drew his attention after a minute. Viktor canted his head at an angle, tail giving a slow wag when Yuuri met his blue-eyed gaze.

“Who was that young woman?”

“Mari? My sister.” Yuuri rubbed his palms over his face, trying to gather his wits about him.

“Older or younger?”

“Seven years older. You could say I was the surprise in the family.” Dropping his hands away from his face, Yuuri clenched them into fists and stared straight ahead. He chose to ignore the quiet, “So it’s a lifetime habit of taking people by surprise,” Viktor said at his side to avoid having to decide how he felt about that statement. Instead he stood, nodding to no one in particular, one fist raised before his face.

“I’m absolutely not going crazy and everything’s going to be okay!”

Viktor was silent for a beat before snorting from where he remained on the bed.

“Not quite the way I’d put it, but I like your spirit, Yuuri! We’ll start training first thing tomorrow morning. For now I’ll settle for a look around the onsen if we can swing it—oh, you’ll want to bring most those boxes up. I had my helper pack the important things!”

Viktor launched himself off Yuuri’s bed, hitting the floor and sliding on the wood. After he gathered his feet under him, he trotted toward the door, glancing back toward Yuuri.

This was all incredibly surreal. Yuuri followed after his erstwhile dog-coach-magic instructor, hoping that soon any part of this would make more sense.

* * *

Yuuri hoped in vain. Thinking Viktor meant maybe two or three pieces of luggage, he felt the seven large shipping boxes paired with _three_ large luggage containers was over the top. All of it was delivered with a note:

_I’ll be in town soon! Please watch after Vitya in the meantime, Yuuri. Thank you! Viktor Nikiforov_

“You didn’t bother calling ahead to warn me but you wrote a note asking me to take care of you and had it delivered _with_ you?”

Yuuri draped himself over the last of the boxes stacked in the spare banquet room down the hall from his room. Viktor continued investigating the space over by the storage area with its half open door.

“The note was for everyone else.” Viktor perked up, staring into the half-open door. “Besides, you weren’t picking your up your phone any of the times I called back.”

As if this were all Yuuri’s doing. “Right.” He shifted his look of disbelief from Viktor to the darkness looming beyond the storage room door. “What are you doing?”

Viktor stalked forward with a low wag of his tail. “Hunting shades. How often do the shadows you talked about before leave when you ask?”

He pushed himself up off the boxes, hairs at the back of his neck standing on end while Viktor walked stiff legged to the storage room door. “I don’t know. I think most of them go away eventually.”

Viktor sniffed at the dark, pushing his head into the open doorway. “Mmm. Those aren’t thinking creatures, exactly.” His neck disappeared into the dark, his shoulders following soon after. “They’re more like shadows of strong emotions looking for a purpose.” Viktor’s tail wagged, a low, slow sweep of silver fur.

Yuuri edged forward, half expecting Viktor to be snatched into the dark and half afraid that he’d be snatched away instead. Curling his fingers into his palms, he continued his quiet shuffle across the tatami mats toward Viktor.

“What does that mean?” What was Viktor doing? More of him slipped into the closet, all the while chatting in a tone of voice Yuuri started associating with _lecture mode._

“It means some shades are more dangerous than others. It also means they’re all the same thing in the end, which is energy that can be harnessed and put to other purpose. They’re not _alive_ in any sense of the word. Without a host, they’ll keep drifting until absorbed or they dissipate on their own.”

Yuuri only half listened as a sense of wrongness threaded through him, latent fears about shadows lurking in dark places rising as a wave crashed on shore. He lurched forward after Viktor as he disappeared into the closet. 

“Viktor!”

He hit the storage room door as Viktor hopped back out, ears forward, body stiff, tail held up straight behind him.

“Yuuri! What is it?”

Admitting his fear that Viktor would be eaten by the darkness was juvenile, but he had no idea what else to say. “I didn’t want you to get lost.”

Viktor blinked, craning his neck to look back into the storage area. “... Is that so?”

Yuuri’s neutral sound of what could be agreement or disagreement was met by Viktor’s relaxing of posture. He shook himself off, trotting forward to brush against Yuuri’s leg.

“I know I said we’d start training tomorrow, but I’ve changed my mind. It’s time to walk the dog.”

Flashing him a canine grin, Viktor trotted right on out into the hall, nails clacking as he made his way toward the stairs.

 _He isn’t much for discussion, is he?_ Shaking his head, Yuuri started letting go of the fear that’d taken hold of his chest, jittery in the wake of the unexpected adrenaline rush. He followed Viktor back down the stairs toward the front entry, pausing to pull on his shoes while Viktor sat pretty waiting at the sliding door. His father poked his head out over the counter, easy smile in place.

“You taking the dog back outside? We might still have Vicchan’s leash around here somewhere. Wouldn’t want them running off again!” Toshiya laughed, pleased by his own joke. Yuuri wondered how much of his sweater-wrangling of the foreigner’s dog had already started going around tonight.

“We’ll be fine, Dad.”

“Even without your sweater?” 

He aimed a wan smile at his father. “Somehow I think I’ll manage.” Yuuri pulled his coat off its hangar and shrugged into it, nudging his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Thanks, though. We’ll be back later.”

Toshiya leaned over the counter to watch them head out the door, calling out after them. “See you later, Yuuri! You too, Vitya!”

* * *

Yuuri looked like he was on edge from the moment they slipped out into the courtyard in front of his family onsen. Viktor led them out to the street, turning left for no particular reason, taking stock of the situation at hand. Yuuri was scared. That much was apparent. By Viktor’s guess, Yuuri had probably been a catalyst at the event at Japan’s National Championships. He likewise guessed Yuuri didn’t know he’d played any part in it, but that everything else he’d been experiencing with the shades started ramping up afterward. His fearing VIktor getting lost in the dark of the storage closet was an extension of fearing the unknown.

Yet he was here anyway. Yuuri was afraid, but he was also brave. Viktor wondered if he gave himself credit for that much.

He heard Yuuri pick up pace until they matched speeds. Neither of them spoke at first, heading down the street under the scattered lights flickering on as night stretched out before them. They passed by a corner store still open for business, encountering a few cars driving by at the late hour. 

He waited to speak until he saw Yuuri was visibly more nervous, eyes darting down every road they crossed, peering into every alleyway.

“Nothing’s nearby right now,” he said. Yuuri jerked in surprise, throwing a guilty look Viktor’s way.

“I didn’t think there was.”

“You’re on the lookout for if anything does happen though, aren’t you?”

Yuuri tucked in his chin, studying the sidewalk. “It’s hard not to be. You said nothing’s nearby, but how can you know?”

He met Yuuri’s gaze, wagging his tail and perking his ears forward to give the appearance of confidence. “I feel it.”

“What does it feel like?” 

Yuuri’s hopeful expression made Viktor want to give a coherent response.

He didn’t have one.

“A… feeling! Like an ache that doesn’t hurt, or that pressure right before a storm hits?”

He hated watching the hope in Yuuri’s eyes die. Yuuri tried hiding his disappointment, gaze drifting away as he frowned and stared down the sidewalk, shoulders hunched.

“Oh. Right. A feeling.”

Viktor bit down hard, ears pressing against his head. He hadn’t helped anyone figure out the most basic levels of trusting their instincts before. He felt the lack keenly right then.

“It’s… different for each person. We’ll figure out what it’s like for you.”

“Mmm.” Yuuri stared ahead, keeping pace with Viktor’s ambling trot. He worked twice as hard to match Yuuri’s natural stride, feet flying as Yuuri started speeding up. Nervous energy strained between them, an almost acrid scent to Viktor’s nose. He was getting nervous in turn.

Angling to bump up against the outside of Yuuri’s leg, Viktor forced himself to wag his tail and jauntily leap forward, leading Yuuri once more. “While we’re learning that, Yuuri, we can also practice what to do when we meet one.”

“Do we have to?” Yuuri sighed, shaking his head and glancing at Viktor. “No, I know we need to do it. I don’t like it, but this feeling out of control of what’s going on is even worse.” He pulled a hand out of his pocket, tightening his fingers into a fist. “If there’s anything I can do to stop making myself jump at shadows, I want to do it. As soon as possible!”

They were approaching a bridge over part of the estuary where the sea off Hasetsu’s coast met the river that ran through the town. Viktor huffed out a sound of approval, lifting his head and breaking into a wide canine grin. “That’s what I’m here to help with!”

A prickling, familiar sensation gave him pause. Staring ahead into the shadows stretching between the streetlights, Viktor squinted, searching for any sign of movement. 

There.

“Speaking about that, is now too soon?”

Yuuri came to an abrupt halt, whipping his head around to stare at Viktor. “What? Right now?”

“Yep! Right now.”

Yuuri spun himself around, searching in every direction. “You feel something around here?”

Sidling back up to Yuuri, Viktor leapt up, pressing his paws against Yuuri’s knee. “Out on the bridge, close to the second light. Yuuri, look at me.”

Yuuri stilled enough to comply, both hands fisted at his sides. Viktor felt his determination much like he’d felt his nerves earlier, mingled in with other feelings he couldn’t parse on his own. He didn’t try; he wasn’t an empath, and all he did feel was mixed up in Yuuri’s overflow of magic bleeding into the space around him. 

“I’ll be right there with you. You can do this. We’ll make contact, then walk away. Okay?”

Yuuri pressed his lips into a thin line, giving Viktor a curt nod. “Okay. We’ll do what you said. Make contact?”

Viktor gave a small dip of his head. “Let your magic touch the shade and let you touch the shade in turn.”

Yuuri didn’t look any more certain about what was going to happen, but he nodded again, expression of determination winning out over his edge of fear. Viktor waited another few seconds before dropping down on all fours, taking point and trotting toward the shade waiting in the shadows.

His respect for Yuuri only grew as he heard him keeping pace behind him. Viktor had trouble wrapping his head around the reality of Yuuri’s situation, twenty-three and new to his magic. There had to be more going on; it was next to unheard of for anyone to come into their magic after puberty. Most came into it years beforehand, like Yuri Plisetsky and Viktor himself had, but it was a mystery to consider later. He needed to focus on what was about to happen, and help best he could. He was a magical girl mentor, wasn’t he? He should be able to help Yuuri even if he couldn’t work magic as a canine.

The shade pooled against the railings, a thin, vaguely human shaped shadow swaying gently side to side in the darkness. Viktor came to a stop within a meter’s distance, concentrating on the shade’s feeling. A sense of calm and patience radiated outward, gentle and steady. More likely born of emotions visited on this area often over the years rather than a strong, sudden outpouring at once.

“Can you feel it, Yuuri?”

Yuuri stopped at his side, swallowing hard. “I think so,” he said, speaking in a murmur. “It’s like it’s waiting. No, not waiting… I don’t understand. Patient? It’s not like the other ones I’ve seen.”

The shade shivered, its sway growing a little more noticeable. Viktor leaned into Yuuri, letting his small body make contact with the side of Yuuri’s lower leg. “That’s what I feel too. Now, to greet it, start by holding out your hand.”

Yuuri glanced down at him, fisted hand twitching at his side. “Like I plan on shaking hands?”

“Ah, that would work, yes. You can also hold your hand out palm up if you prefer.”

He lifted his hand and uncurled his fingers. “Okay. Like this?” Yuuri extended his hand toward the shade, both of them ignoring the way it shook a little in the low light.

“Just like that. Think about a greeting, or how you introduce yourself to someone. Hold onto that feeling. Concentrate on it.”

Viktor had no way to tell if Yuuri was doing as he said, but he leaned his inconsequential weight into him and waited, studying the shade. He noticed a change after a few seconds, the shade rippling and turning, shifting the bulk of what passed for attention their direction. There were no eyes or limbs to indicate a true sense of front or back, but he still felt they were now seeing the face of the shade as it stilled again.

Yuuri’s hand stayed outstretched, fingers splayed. The shade leaned toward him, part of it budding off and forming a fingerless hand. It stretched toward Yuuri, moving slowly, until it hovered within centimeters of touching him.

“You’re doing good—” 

Even as he spoke, Viktor saw the shade bridge the remaining distance, pressing down against Yuuri’s palm and sending tendrils of shadow curling around his hand. He felt Yuuri’s magic spike along with his adrenaline and fear, hitting Viktor as it hit the shade.

Yuuri jerked his hand back, stumbling away from the shade while the shade stretched with him, wanting to stay in contact with his magic. Viktor hit the cement, the same magic that’d bathed him in warmth earlier scorching him now. Left panting on his hands and knees, he shoved up to his feet as soon as he realised he was human yet again.

Yuuri’s blind panic was understandable, but as he tried to fight off the feeding shade with his bare hands, he was losing more and more of his arm to its dark mass.

“Get off me, let _go!_ ” 

Yuuri kept backing away, coming closer to the curbside. In another two steps he’d be on the streets.

Viktor moved without hesitating, slipping behind Yuuri. He rested one hand on Yuuri’s shoulder, moving his other arm to rest on the outside of the arm being engulfed by the shade. Talking next to Yuuri’s ear, Viktor kept his voice level and calm, hoping he’d get through to Yuuri.

“Yuuri, it’s not trying to eat you. It’s holding on because you’re leaking magic, it’ll let go once you can calm down enough to ask it. Look, see? I’m right here with you. It’s not moving any faster, is it?”

It was difficult to tell if Yuuri was shivering or not, bundled as he was in his coat. He nodded his head in short, jerky movements. His voice came out higher than his usual speaking registry, his weight leaning back heavily into Viktor, Yuuri still poised to run.

“Viktor, it’s on my hand. It’s coming up my arm, Viktor, it’s _moving_ and I want it to stop.”

“I know, and you’ll get it to stop. Just you.” The shade reached out to brush a tendril over Viktor’s arm, lazily wrapping around him, too. His magic was harder for it to access; it went against years of training to offer even enough to allow the shade to latch on with that creeping, silken coolness he remembered. “Focus on that desire for it to stop and send that feeling back toward it.”

“How can you say that like it makes sense?!” Yuuri snapped back, shoulders hunching and unhunching almost immediately. “I’m sorry, but this isn’t helping!”

“Yuuri, breathe.” Viktor pulled on some of his own magic, sending a tendril of it out toward the shade. _Be still. Be calm._ He felt Yuuri’s magic react to his in turn; felt Yuuri breathe out in a shuddering sigh against his chest. 

“Think about how you want it to stop. How you want it to let go. _Feel_ that. Take that feeling and push it outward, as if it were something you could hold in your hands. Imaging pushing it toward the shade.”

The shade stopped exploring up their arms, its surface a slow swirl of colour shifting like oil over muddy water as it waited, otherwise unmoving. 

“... It really stopped.” Yuuri spoke barely above a murmur, turning his head enough to catch sight of Viktor in the blur of his periphery. “That worked.”

“Of course it worked,” he said, chuckling as he stared over Yuuri’s shoulder at the shade. “Your willpower is a force of its own. Ready for the next step?”

“Not really,” Yuuri said, offering a tight smile. “Then again I don’t think it’s a matter of being ready or not. What do I need to do?”

“Focus,” Viktor said, smile on his lips bringing his voice to a friendlier registry. “And lend me your coat.”

“Wait—what?”

“Because I’m sure Japan has some kind of public indecency laws and I’d prefer not to end up detained and then a wanted fugitive because I managed to swap myself out for a dog without anyone noticing.”

“Can we focus on what I need to focus on now?” The rush of words leaving Yuuri’s mouth almost made Viktor smile. Instead he hummed, never taking his eyes off the shade.

“Focus on a polite, firm feeling of gratitude and asking it to let go.”

He saw Yuuri’s brow furrow from the corner of his eye. He fell quiet, the sound of the ocean waves crashing against the shore in the near distance enveloping them both. Only Yuuri’s laboured breathing was louder in Viktor’s ears. 

As he stood at Yuuri’s back, he watched the shade wrapped around their arms quiver and recede centimeter by centimeter until it slipped entirely away. He caught Yuuri as Yuuri tried stepping back, bracing them both to stay on the sidewalk.

“Congratulations on making it through your first willing contact. Are you ready to do it again?”

Yuuri started laughing in his arms. “I hate this,” he said between gasping breaths, “How can any of this make sense?”

Viktor had no useful answer, so he settled for stating the obvious. “It’s magic.” Squeezing Yuuri’s shoulder, he scooted around to his side. “Traditional logic has to bend before it can start making sense of it all again.”

Yuuri glanced over to Viktor, shrugging out of his coat and casting wary glances at the waiting shade. “That’s not reassuring.”

“I wasn’t trying to be. Ignoring all the nonsense doesn’t make it better. It leaves you vulnerable.” He accepted the coat as it was handed over, giving Yuuri a small smile in return. “Accepting that it’s illogical is the first step toward understanding.”

Yuuri looked anything but convinced. “Walking up and touching this shade thing isn’t making me vulnerable?” Both his hands were held close to his torso, as if reaching out meant losing something he’d never get back. 

“It could, yes, if you let it overwhelm and take over. Think of shades as parasites that feed on energy. Most the time, they latch on, and grow a bit, then drift away naturally. Sometimes what they carry with them is like a disease, and the person they attach to faces a real danger of losing themselves to the emotions that form the shade.”

Viktor paused in buttoning up Yuuri’s borrowed coat to look his way, glad it managed to cover slightly more than Yuuri’s sweater had. “Yuuri?”

Yuuri gaped at him, looking torn between outrage and horror. “You wanted me to go up and touch a _spiritual parasite!?_ ”

“It’s not actually spiritual—”

“Not the point!”

“It was a figure of speech, Yuuri. Look, each shade is different, and you want to get a sense for how each one _feels_ to know if it’s dangerous. Like knowing the feeling when you’ve kicked off for a jump and having the speed to get through all your rotations.”

“As opposed to crashing into the ice?”

“Yes. Only if you hadn’t done the crashing, you wouldn’t have the understanding of what everything feels like when it’s going right.”

They were off topic, discussing what Viktor wanted to say when they were standing rinkside in a loose association to the shade that continued to linger just out of arm’s reach. Yuuri looked at it again, rubbing his upper arms with a frown.

“Is it going to stay there?”

“Tell me what you think.”

“I think I want to leave.”

“Yuuri.”

“I’m being honest.” He brought his hands up to his face, nudging his glasses upward to rub his eyes. “How am I supposed to know what to think?”

“By feeling. Look at the shade and tell me what it reminds you of, what it feels like, what it brings to mind. Anything at all.”

Viktor stepped closer, pressing his shoulder against Yuuri’s. He didn’t have the words to tell Yuuri how to feel the shade’s emotion. He wasn’t sure what _he_ did to sense that, but he hoped his attempts at bullshitting his way through would work for Yuuri.

For a few moments, it didn’t seem like they were. Yuuri stared mutely at the shade, lips pressed in a thin line. His brow furrowed as he studied its shifting, amorphous surface, frown intensifying as he thought. He held out one hand toward the shade again, fingers outstretched. No open palm gestures this go around.

“It’s like earlier. I feel patience and… calm.”

Yuuri opened his eyes, swallowing. The shade he faced shimmered, swirling highlights in the darkness of its surface moving faster. Once again it formed an arm to reach out, this time better mimicking human form as it changed shape. Its other impression of an arm stayed at its side, the digits of its moving hand mirroring Yuuri’s outstretched fingers. 

“That’s what I feel too. I think this is a shade that’s been created by someone who spends time waiting here in calmness.” He had no explanation for who that could be, or why it might happen. He didn’t know this bridge or about Hasetsu as a whole.

Yuuri swallowed and cleared his throat. “There’s an older man who fishes here most days. Not all day long, but it’s his favourite spot. I remembered him doing that when I was in primary school, and he still does today.” Yuuri’s hesitation to bridge the remaining distance between his finger and the shade’s shadow finger had him looking to Viktor again.

Viktor nodded, encouraging him to take the chance.

“It doesn’t feel like it will hurt me. Even before, it just… held on.”

“I won’t say it’s impossible, but you’re right, it’s unlikely this one will hurt you.”

Yuuri pulled his hand back, shooting Viktor a look torn between mild panic and consternation. “Not helping.”

“I’m being realistic,” he said, but he laughed, shaking his head. “I apologise for making you worry, but it’s good to be aware. Magic goes by gut feeling more often than people like us want to admit. Trust what you’re feeling.”

“That’s the last thing I’m inclined to do.” Yuuri muttered, sighing and reaching out again. “You promise this thing won’t eat me?”

Viktor brought a hand up to Yuuri’s shoulder, letting his palm rest there. “I promise. Now why don’t the two of you say one last hello and then we can call this a night?”

* * *

Yuuri admitted to himself this wasn’t the worst night he’d had in recent history. He felt better by the end of it, even when Viktor went from gorgeous man to handsome toy poodle and Yuuri ended up carrying him inside wrapped up in his coat. He met his father’s raised eyebrows with a short, “He got cold.”

Toshiya made a speculative noise and laughed, disappearing into the front office while Yuuri kicked off his shoes beelined for his room. Viktor started yawning as soon as he was back on all fours. Even now he blinked up drowsily at Yuuri, the sweetest picture of a tired canine that pulled on Yuuri’s heartstrings. Vicchan looked like this after a vigorous play session, or a long walk as he aged. Viktor was much more complicated than Vicchan had ever been, but stranded like this, he was just as achingly adorable.

And just like Vicchan, he was sleeping in Yuuri’s room. The extra blankets laid out at the foot of his bed were a concession from his mother for his habits of having Vicchan sleep on his bed as a teenager. He wanted to object on some nonsensical level. There was no way in the world he was sleeping with Viktor Nikiforov! Only Viktor was a toy poodle at the moment, and he was also sort of a skating coach and magic mentor, even if he wasn’t vetted for one and was kind of bad at the other.

Viktor yawned again and curled up on the blankets, lifting his head for long enough to wish Yuuri goodnight before burying his head in the blanket. He was asleep before Yuuri snuck out to the bathroom to brush his teeth, wash up, and change, sneaking back in and hitting every creaky floorboard as he moved. He tensed and froze, expecting to hear Viktor calling out at any moment.

He strained to listen, but all he heard were soft exhalations.

Yuuri let go of the breath he’d been holding, folding back his covers and slipping into bed. His heart still beat too fast in his chest, his cheeks feeling warm while an unnamed emotion bubbled up in his chest. After a moment, he realised it was happiness. He was happy at having confronted one of his moving shadows and walking away from it okay. He was happy Viktor was here, helping him figure out magic, and supposedly helping figure out his skating, too. 

For the first time in months Yuuri was excited by the prospect of tomorrow, and no small part of it had to do with the man turned toy poodle currently dreaming by his feet.


	5. the vending machine strikes back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor comes up with an inspired plan to explore the potential of Yuuri's magical girl status. Yuuri does not agree that it's an inspired plan; he goes along with it anyway.

Improbable as it seemed at first, Yuuri found his life falling into an almost understandable pattern. Viktor wasn’t as helpful as Yuuri hoped when it came to magic, but they struggled through learning together. When it came to the ice, Yuuri struggled to live up to Viktor’s expectations, and for the most part thrived on the challenge. Viktor was almost as hard and demanding on Yuuri as Yuuri was on himself. He nitpicked, he lectured, and then with equal alacrity, praised Yuuri for what he did well so fast his head spun. 

Then there was the bizarre manner in which Viktor managed his coaching. 

After the introduction between Viktor and the Nishigori family—consisting of Yuuko, Takeshi, and their three girls—came the introduction of his silver toy poodle by Yuuri while Viktor had to step out on a call. Vitya, as they’d decided to call him while a poodle, was Yuuri’s more constant companion. Viktor the man came and went in response to Yuuri’s fluctuating magical control rather than whimsy or eccentricity on Viktor’s part, but by and large, he was understood to be a flighty, albeit effective, coach.

When it was just the two of them at the rink in the early mornings, Viktor watched and called out from on top of the table set up alongside the boards. They kept a change of clothes for him in Yuuri’s locker, allowing Viktor to dress on the fly when Yuuri’s frustration levels were too high. Viktor learned to take advantage of those moments to demonstrate for Yuuri what it was he meant on the ice, keeping one of his few remaining magic storing artifacts on hand to activate in case anyone else joined them before Viktor could slip away to transform back unseen.

When Takeshi or Yuuko or the girls were likely to be around, they set up Yuuri’s phone on a one-way video call, allowing Viktor to “speak” through the phone, or giving the appearance of it at least. 

Viktor noted he was blazing through his supply of magic storing hair ties. His tendency to wear them didn't go unnoticed: Lutz, Loop, and Axel decided Yuuri’s _famous coach's_ dog was a mascot of sorts, and set to coordinating Viktor’s bows with their own. He was assigned a green carnation bow they dug out of their own supplies, and regularly sported two or more bows when the girls were in attendance at the rink.

Yuuri asked about Viktor’s hair ties one night at the end of their second week together, learning that they collected and stored magic like one might charge a battery. Viktor used them in one go for the fifteen minutes that allowed him to regain his true form, though lately he had the same license granted by Yuuri’s surges of magic.

“In theory couldn’t you use several of those one after another and stay human for longer?”

Viktor looked up from where he sorted various hair ties on Yuuri’s floor, using his nose and paws to push them into one pile or another. “Yes, but then I have to wait to recharge them. Charms like these can soak up ambient magic, but they work best where there’s already an overwhelming amount of magic collecting in one area. Like at sporting events, concerts, anything like that.”

“... Sales at market?”

Viktor snorted, tail sweeping against the floor. “Yes, that’d work too. Anyway, I can’t encourage it to collect faster, and when I tried charging them while human, I turned dog again faster than I blinked.” He shuddered, prompting Yuuri into frowning as he continued stretching to the side.

“Can I charge them?”

Viktor paused, turning his face toward Yuuri. “Technically. You know that rock exercise I have you do?”

Yuuri sat up, pulling out of a full stretch. “The one you keep saying is about meditation.”

“It _is_ about mediation.”

“Uh-huh.”

“A side effect is how it helps you center and focus your magic. You’ve been managing it faster and faster every day.”

Pride warmed his chest, along with relief. The more he improved, the better control he had of this part of his life that crashed down into him unannounced and unexpected. “I’m happy to hear that, but I don’t see what that has to do with your hair ties.”

Viktor growled, short and brief, the sound a personally aimed frustration Yuuri was starting to recognise. He shook it off, picking out a bow and delicately avoiding his piles of odds and ends to come stand at Yuuri’s side. When Yuuri accepted the bow from Viktor’s delicate hold with his front teeth, Viktor sat back and held up a paw.

“It’s easier to use stone as a focus for storing energy for most people. Fabric is more delicate, but it can’t hurt to try.” He tucked his paw against his chest. “Center yourself like when you’re meditating. Once you’re centered, feel for the core of your magic, and guide it into your hand. Think of that bow as a cup you’re pouring some of your magic into, and imagine your magic flowing from your hand into the bow.”

Yuuri stared down at the bow, a pretty affair with dots of purple and blue and navy on a white background. “It’s that simple?”

Viktor snorted again, bringing his paw down to pat Yuuri’s knee. “Simple in concept, difficult in execution. Let me know how that goes.” He returned to his sorting, leaving Yuuri frowning down at the bow in his hand and wondering what the hell that meant.

He learned the next morning when his attempts at “pouring himself” into the bow led to him achieve nothing more than frustration. He didn’t fully skate it out of his system before he was crashing down into the ice hard enough that he was delaying standing for a few precious seconds to gather his wits and aches around him.

“You’re mulling over something, Yuuri. You always mess up jumps when your head’s too loud with thoughts.”

He glared in Viktor’s direction, sighing inwardly and shaking his head as he rolled onto his side and regained his feet. “Do you want me running through it again?”

Viktor glanced toward the far door, checking that they were still alone in the rink. “No, come over here and rehydrate for a minute.” He nudged the tissue case cover closer to the boards as Yuuri glided close, pulling to a stop. He took a facial tissue with a nod of his head, blowing his nose and tucking the used tissue away into the bag kept on the table for such purposes. With a passing glance at Viktor, Yuuri caught no indication of what his coach wanted. He reached for his water bottle to take a sip.

“What’s on your mind?”

Yuuri almost inhaled water when Viktor pressed his cold nose against the exposed flesh of his arm. “Nothing!” He said, coughing and waving his hands in front of him, water bottle still clutched in one. “There’s nothing!”

“If there’s nothing, why are you messing up your jumps so badly?”

He flinched back, eyes darting to the side. He knew he was messing up, and he knew it was because he was distracted. Being called out on it wasn’t pleasant. “It’s nothing important.”

“Important enough to eat up your concentration makes it important enough I want to hear. Yuuri, what’s going on?”

Could he say everything and get away with it? Or skate on, and ignore this line of questioning? He came close to giving in to the impulse, holding off because he realised it wouldn’t help the situation. “How am I supposed to make the bow thing work?”

Viktor blinked at him, canting his head to the side and making the bow currently holding up his bangs flutter gently as he moved. “The bow thing?”

Yuuri tipped his head to Viktor, pointedly eyeing the bow in his fur. “The bow thing!”

“Oh, right, recharging the bows. You’re sure you want to focus on that? We could always have you work with traditional stones so you could store magic for later use.”

 _Not like I’ll need it_ , he thought, already setting his water bottle down and planting his hands on the boards. It felt odd to be squaring up against a toy poodle, but the intelligence and consideration of Viktor’s eyes shone through regardless. “Please teach me properly. I want to know how to do this. If I have to be involved with magic in the first place, I want to be able to use it to help you too.”

He watched Viktor take in his words, pausing before he responded.

“It’s important to know how to control your magic as much as how to contain and disguise it. Storing magic in objects is considered an older tradition, and not strictly relevant.”

“I’m going to need a coach who shows up to competitions if nothing else, Viktor. I feel like that makes this pretty relevant.” Yuuri’s heart pounded in his chest, a faint ringing in his ears as he brought his hands together in front of himself, beseeching. “Please, show me how to help you so I can learn how to help myself.”

Viktor’s ears shifted back, not quite flat against his skull. Then he stood, leaping forward to throw out a paw and touch Yuuri’s hands, pressed palm to palm. “All right, since you asked so nicely. We’ll take a break from the ice and have you stretch out, then jog, and then we’ll work on the magic bow stuff.”

* * *

Later Viktor sat in Yuuri’s lap and placed his paw over his hand to focus and concentrate their combined efforts. Yuuri managed to calm and center himself, but when it came to giving his magic to anything else, he kept trying to flood _Viktor_.

Hence their current predicament. Viktor had turned human twice. Yuuri now had his jacket on hand to try and cover him if he slipped up again, and Viktor half hoped mortification of having a naked adult man sprawling in Yuuri’s lap in semi-public would help keep Yuuri focused.

It was working for the time being. “Feel your magic centered in your core. Imagine sending some of that warmth to your arm, down toward you hand, to your fingertips.” He waited to feel Yuuri’s magic responding before continuing. “Good, now feel what I’m asking your magic to do.”

He pressed his paw down against Yuuri’s hand, likewise pressing the magic being held there down, into the bow held in Yuuri’s fist. His surprise at how attuned he was to Yuuri’s magic had slowly turned into understanding: magical girls relied on their familiars for guidance, and apparently that included guidance in forming magical artifacts.

Who knew?

It also meant Viktor had little idea what the specifics of their particular and unusual relationship as mentor and student involved. Yuuri’s magic reminded Viktor of his own, but the means of keeping it contained or controlled or even guided was different. The way he responded and felt Yuuri was unlike how Makkachin responded to Viktor, even when helping him with his larger workings of magic. Makkachin was a reservoir, her collar the biggest magic repository that Viktor’d ever crafted, but while she was his partner at heart, she wasn’t contributing to the creation of his magic.

He was here helping Yuuri form magic, and it was _working_.

“Feel that difference?” he said, tracking the magic as it flowed from Yuuri’s hand into the bow. When the bow could store no more, he lifted his paw, tongue lolling out as he grinned at nothing in particular. 

“This time!” Yuuri’s smile was short lived. “I don’t know why it’s so difficult on my own.”

“You just started learning. When you started skating, were you doing jumps on day one, or still figuring out how to fall without hurting yourself?” Viktor hopped out of Yuuri’s lap, shaking himself off. “I shouldn’t have made it seem like I expected you to be able to do this so soon. I’m impressed you got as far as you did.”

Yuuri eyed him warily, before slumping his shoulders and sighing. “If you say so,” he said, pushing up to his feet. He shook out his limbs, tucking the elastic band and its decorative bow away in a pocket. “But close isn’t enough.”

No one with a perfectionist drive would consider close enough. Viktor appreciated what it did for forward momentum, but right now it was only frustrating Yuuri. 

How could he help with that? Yuuri wanted… what. The skating, that was easy. Viktor knew how to help push someone to perform beyond their current levels and strive for their best. He’d been able to see Yuuri’s potential since last season. What about with magic?

Was the problem in how Viktor was approaching the whole subject?

“Yuuri, when someone says magical girl, what does that bring to mind?”

“I don’t know, transformation outfits, fighting monsters, sailor fuku… Most what you’d find in Sailor Moon.” He changed stance, mimicking Usagi’s pose when she delivered one of her most famous lines. “In the name of the moon, I shall punish you!” Relaxing again, he shot Viktor a playful grin. “Something like that.”

Viktor hummed, resisting the urge to sigh when it sounded closer to a growl. Yuuri’s idea fell more or less in line with Viktor’s research on the subject over the years, including striking poses and transformations into costumes.

Not to mention fighting monsters.

Viktor spun around, hopping on his hind legs and waving his paws at Yuuri as inspiration struck. “Yuuri! Tonight, we’re going to learn how to fight like magical girls!”

“What?!” 

* * *

_We’ll find a restless shade_ , he said. _It won’t be anything large,_ he said.

As Yuuri stared at the shade lingering to the side of a beverage vending machine, he had to wonder what was going through Viktor’s mind. He felt the restlessness of this shade, frustration that turned prickly the longer he looked at it. As long as he didn’t force himself to try too hard, he read shades fairly well. Glancing over the top of this one, he sorted through the frustration that peaked whenever the shade reached for the vending machine.

“So you want me to call out a phrase to use for transforming, then allow the magic to transform me, and… fight this shade.”

“Or politely ask it to dissipate, whatever works.” Viktor sat at his feet, staring in the same direction. “Shades like this can start causing malfunctions and other inconveniences. When they’re more powerful, that’s when they can cause accidents. Most people won’t step in until about that point.”

“Like the magicians who have daytime jobs working security at event centers, hmm?”

Viktor laughed, tongue lolling out of his mouth. “Yes, like them. Think of this as cleaning up the streets. You’re helping this energy disperse back to the world at large, and preventing a shade from gaining enough magic to do some bigger damage.”

Yuuri wasn’t altruistic enough to think that sounded like a great plan, but he recognised it was an effort made by Viktor to continue familiarising Yuuri with what he needed to know. Doing night-time sweeps of Hasetsu regularly didn’t seem like it’d fit in schedule.

Still, he wanted to learn, and he trusted Viktor.

“Okay. I’ll try.” He pushed his hair back off his forehead, breathing in and summarising what he knew about this shade. It was frustrated, it manifested near a vending machine, and it was an accident waiting to happen one day.

Straightforward enough. Yuuri walked closer, stopping several meters away. How was he supposed to activate a transformation simply by striking a pose?

Clamping down on his internal commentary, Yuuri moved through the short choreography Viktor worked on with him that afternoon. Squaring off with the shade, he drew one foot back as he raised an arm overhead, keeping the other level with his shoulders, elbow perpendicular to his body. 

His magic responded as he moved, the sweep of his arm over his head followed by a warmth and light encompassing his body. It couldn’t have lasted more than a heartbeat. By the time he completed the motion, shifting one foot back and angling his elbow forward to point toward the shade with his moving hand held out in a v for victory underneath his other arm, the light faded. 

Yuuri stood clad in form-fitting spandex and fishnet, light from the street lamps glinting off a smattering of crystals from his right shoulder across his chest. Glancing down he saw more following the line of his hip in toward his lower abdomen; a reflection of light off his leg attesting to even more crystals there. With the short half skirt curling around his right hip and the odd, crop-like instrument in his hand, Yuuri was even more confused.

It clicked a moment later as Viktor gasped behind him.

“Yuuri! That almost looks like— ”

“The Lilac Fairy?!” Yuuri spun around, refraining from pointing his heart and crystal tipped riding crop wand at Viktor. “This looks like your costume from—why are you naked?!”

Viktor dusted his hands off as he stood, quirking an eyebrow. “I ask myself that every time, but so far I don’t have an answer.” Viktor trotted over to Yuuri’s side, far too comfortable with his own nudity. Then again Yuuri supposed he didn’t have much of a choice, for all it was distracting as hell. Viktor gestured in front of him as he came to a stop. “The shade’s moving.”

Yuuri turned back in time to see the shade plaster against the front of the vending machine. Like a gelatinous semi-translucent slime it spread over the lights, drinks becoming more visible on the other side as the shade grew intangible and faded into the machine.

“Oh no.”

“Oh no?” Yuuri whipped his riding crop wand around, gesturing toward the vending machine. “What’s oh no? Oh no, there it went? The shade just disappeared into a vending machine, Viktor! What am I supposed to do about it now?”

Viktor shook his head, eyes serious when he met Yuuri’s gaze. “It didn’t disappear into the machine. It possessed it.”

Yuuri’s mouth dropped open. “Shades can do that?”

“This one just did.” His wry smile was brief lived. “It’s not common, but—watch out!”

Viktor tackled Yuuri to the ground, the both of them landing in a heap while beverage cans and a juice box shot past where Yuuri had been standing. 

“What the hell?!”

Viktor responded with a pained grunt, rolling off Yuuri and gesturing toward their assailant. “Eyes on the vending machine, Yuuri!”

“I know!” He scrambled up, holding up his riding crop wand like it was some kind of shield. The vending machine shook, lights flickering as it creaked and groaned. “What do you want me to do about it!”

“Take care of it just like we’d been talking about!” Still naked, Viktor regained his feet and darted around his side, bleeding from a skinned thigh and elbow. “This shade’s still like the ones we’ve met before. It’s in a different form, but the same principle applies. Your magic can disrupt what it’s doing, I know it can.”

“You’re injured,” Yuuri said, trying to keep the bulk of his attention on the possessed machine. He failed, the painful looking scrapes that marred Viktor’s arm standing out vividly enough in his mind’s eye that he had to look his way again.

Viktor waved toward the vending machine. “Right now we have bigger problems to worry about.” His grim smile was almost reassuring. “I’ll be fine.”

Yuuri nodded, squaring off with the machine and frowning as it continued rocking side to side. No further drinks had been violently expelled, but it was only a matter of time before it’d happen. He pushed his worry for Viktor to the side, as much as he hated to do it. Viktor was right; they had bigger problems. Vending machine sized problems. One that came well equipped with a wide variety of ammunition.

The machine lurched and crashed forward in one hulking step, its rocking motion translated into forward momentum. Yuuri flinched, whipping his wand through the air to point directly at its glass front. “Stop in the name of… the moon?”

He yelped as the machine spat out another trio of bottles at unreasonably high speeds, leaving him dodging to the side. Much like the first, they were aimed at his legs instead of higher, but he supposed trajectory was a work in progress when the only opening the machine had was toward the bottom. He didn’t want to give the possessed machine time to finetune its aim, like in those older computer games.

“Viktor, how am I supposed to get that shade out of there?” Yuuri kept his wand aimed at the machine as he circled toward its side, watching it try to heave around to follow him as he moved.

“Call on your magic and let it attack for you.”

He whipped his head around to stare at Viktor, gesturing toward the machine with his free hand. “Exactly how am I supposed to do that?”

Viktor took refuge behind a pole not even wide enough to keep him half-hidden from view. “Like we practiced earlier! Focus on your magic and call it out, aiming it at the shade with your wand.”

“Call it out how!”

“I don’t know, Yuuri. Use a catch-phrase!”

“I don’t have a catch-phrase!”

“Then make something up!”

The machine continued its cacophonous advance, stomping down one side at a time as it rocked its way forward. While progress wasn’t quick, it was steady enough to be disturbing. 

A catch phrase, he needed a catch phrase… He was tired, irritated, hungry, and anxious. None of these things combined into any particularly insightful thoughts, but the combination did at least get him speaking.

“I really want to eat katsudon!”

Mortification flooded through him as he felt his magic release, traveling up his arm and pouring into the length of his wand. The jeweled heart tip shone brighter and brighter, becoming blinding as the scent of his family’s katsudon flooded the area. The machine couldn’t scream, but it did create some unholy grinding noise as it was forced backward by the beam of light coming out of his wand’s tip, shooting cans that were deflected to either side of a bowl-shaped shield of light that formed in front of Yuuri.

“Wow, amazing!” Viktor applauded from his hiding place, Yuuri opting to ignore him in favour of concentrating on what he was doing. Holding his wand steady, he pushed his way forward like he was wading through thigh-deep water. The odd sensation of resistance deepened the frown on his lips. 

He backed the vending machine into its original location, its rocking ceasing as it started to vibrate instead. A high pitched whining attacked his ears while several more cans tumbling out of the retrieval flap. 

“Will you get out of there already?” The machine continued to whine. Yuuri’s irritation grew and he kicked it with the toe of his heeled boots, the shock of impact traveling up his shin. “Ow!”

“Probably wasn’t a good idea to kick a machine made of metal!” Viktor called out from behind his pole, sounding almost concerned.

“Noted!” Yuuri said, grumbling under his breath after. “Not helping, Viktor.” 

He had the machine where he wanted it. Now he needed the shade where he could deal with it, which meant getting it out of the damn machine. A glimpse of darkness spilling over the lip of the retrieval flap gave him an idea, but when he patted himself down, he couldn’t find any pockets _or_ magically appearing coins.

“Viktor! Do you have any yen on you?”

“I hate to remind you that I’m naked because I kind of hate that you don’t remember that right now, but I’m naked! And usually a dog! All I’ve got is…” A surprised sound followed by a bark of laughter drew Yuuri’s attention. He caught a flash of pale movement from the corner of his eye, realising it was Viktor jogging toward him a moment later. “100 yen, spotted by your magical familiar.”

Yuuri pointedly avoided looking _down_ , though his concern for Viktor’s injuries remained prominent. He held out his hand and returned Viktor’s grin with one of his own. The sheer absurdity of his current predicament and the broken whirring of the machine as it made noises of mechanical frustration at them both almost had him laughing.

Instead he closed his fingers around the 100 yen coin Viktor placed into his open palm, squaring off with the machine again, his wand never wavering from pointing at his target. He reached out, arm shaking with the effort of pushing against the magical force being thrust out at him, and shoved the coin into the proper slot. Jabbing his finger at any of the selection buttons, he listened as the machine whirred and hummed, the frustrated whining interrupted.

The drink slid down and thumped into the receptacle. Whatever force had been pressing against Yuuri collapsed as the shade streamed out of the retrieval flap at the same time, pooling around his feet.

Yuuri leaped backward and brought his wand down to point at the shade. The impression of a heart flew out from the end and hit the middle of the shade with a wet, smacking sound. “ _Oh,_ ” cried out a voice from nowhere, Yuuri exchanging a confused glance with Viktor before the shade shivered and exploded into dozens of dancing points of golden light.

They swirled around his head, settling against his skin. Wreathed in points of light, Yuuri looked to Viktor, finding a smaller crown of the same circling his brow.

“What’s happening?” 

Viktor reached out, palm open for a mote of light to land within. He brought it closer to his face, studying it with pursed lips. “I don’t know. I think it’s a side effect of the transformation. Usually this isn’t so flashy.”

“It does defeat the purpose of being subtle,” he said, offering Viktor a small, amused smile. Viktor met his eyes, smiling in return.

“It might not be subtle, but the firefly effect is enchanting.” He tossed the mote in his hand back into the air, watching it spiral away.

Yuuri hummed an acknowledgement, looking away from the light as it traveled higher and twinkled out of existence. His eyes lingered on Viktor, drinking in the sight of his face in the soft golden glow. He was beautiful, even more so in life than he was on the ice. He deserved a chance to be back there, not trapped as a dog and helping Yuuri stumble through magic and the crises of his skating career.

The rest of his concerns started resurfacing on the tail end of those thoughts. Viktor was still without clothes and injured; the street was littered in beverage cans that needed to be picked up; and Yuuri wasn’t wearing the outfit he’d left home in, or else he’d already have his coat off and wrapped around Viktor’s shoulders. He frowned as he approached Viktor, keeping his eyes level with his face. 

“Viktor, weren’t you injured?”

Viktor clucked his tongue, holding up his elbow to examine it. “Just skinned a little, nothing major. I’ve had worse—” He grimaced, the motes of light around his head glowing brighter. 

Yuuri reached out to grab him as he disappeared in a flash of magic that twisted Yuuri’s gut. He stood there clutching at the empty air, Viktor on the pavement at his feet, while the lights clinging to Yuuri’s skin rose and swirled away. The two of them were left in the eye of a storm of flickering lights that rose toward the sky and winked out like so many dozens of dying suns a galaxy away.

“Looks like my clock struck midnight.” Viktor gave a wag of his tail before shaking off, nosing forward to brush against the outside of Yuuri’s leg. “Time to reverse your transformation too.”

Magic thrummed within him before he could object to having no idea how that was done. Breathing in, Yuuri closed his eyes and reached for it, embracing the way it flowed through him, beyond him. Transforming back to his street clothes became a matter of envisioning his will, then letting the magic do as it would.

When he opened his eyes he was wearing the same clothing he’d put on earlier that night. 

“It worked!”

“Wow! Yuuri, you’re so fast!” Viktor chuckled, an oddly deep sound coming from a small dog. “Though now we get to the less exciting part: clean up.”

Exhaustion crashed over him, but he squared his shoulders and nodded anyway. They had more work to do, and with Viktor moving the conversation past his injuries or anything related, focusing on a straightforward, non-dangerous task was simple enough to be appealing.

* * *

Yuuri looked down at the haul of dented beverage cans he’d picked up, noting with sour amusement none of them happened to be on his preferred shortlist. “It just had to possess a vending machine with a terrible selection.”

“Oh? You don’t like any of what it threw at you?” Viktor balanced on his hindlegs, paws resting against Yuuri’s leg. He sniffed at the bottom of the bag, showing every indication of wanting to look at the contents. 

Yuuri dipped the bag lower, spreading it open so Viktor could see inside. “They’re all okay. Nothing I’d get for myself, really, but…” He shrugged. He didn’t have the energy to care when he’d already worked himself up to deciding it wasn’t stealing when he’d had to fight the damn thing in the first place. 

“I’d love to try whatever you don’t want.” Viktor wagged his tail in happy, slow sweeps. “I don’t know any of these flavours!”

Yuuri smiled, giving Viktor a fond look. “The great Viktor Nikiforov hasn’t raided every beverage machine in Hasetsu already?”

Viktor jumped down with a sigh. “No,” he said, attempting to sound morose. “Not even one.”


	6. you dress me when i bleed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Addressing a few post-battle injuries, Viktor and Yuuri also end up planning a formal introduction of Viktor to the rest of the Katsuki family.

Viktor woke up curled in fetal position at the foot of Yuuri’s bed, his legs dangling over the edge. It wasn’t the first time he’d found himself human in the middle of the night, the warm touch of Yuuri’s magic fading as he roused. Dreams carried as much emotional weight as the waking world. Discovering Yuuri’s frequent nightmares translated into sporadic magic spikes during the night had been a surprise for them both. Learning how to handle them remained a work in progress.

Nights like these, Viktor didn’t know if it was better to try and wake him or let him sleep through, calming down again into more restful spaces. Tonight he opted to leave him be.

He sat up, pausing at Yuuri’s small whine as he rolled onto his side and settled down again. With nothing else forthcoming, Viktor slipped off the bed, heading for Yuuri’s dresser. Viktor had some of his clothes unpacked and tucked away in Yuuri’s drawers, but in the dark it was easier to just take whatever he found first and pull it on overhead. 

His elbow scraped against the soft fabric, sending a twinge of pain shooting up his arm. Hissing to himself, he riffled around for underwear until his fingertips brushed against something lacey. Must be his.

He pulled them out and on, taking care to avoid dragging the fabric against his injured thigh. While he’d been fine as a dog, the scrapes on his human body remained as they were before he’d transformed back, only better scabbed over. If he was up for the next fifteen minutes or so, he might as well take care of those while he could.

Viktor made his quiet way out of the room and down the hall to the small upstairs bathroom. He fumbled for the electrical switch, pressing down and sliding his fingers to the side to flood the small space with light. He winced, blinking away the afterimage burnt into his retinas.

“Now where’s the first aid kit again?” He said out loud, muttering to himself as he stepped inside and closed the door behind him with care. “I know it’s around here somewhere.”

A few discreet glances into the cabinet under the sink produced no results. Opening the medicine cabinet revealed what he wanted: iodine, cotton squares of gauze, and antibiotic ointment. Viktor sat on the closed lid of the toilet and set to cleaning up the scrapes on his arm, hissing as he gently worked over the scabbed skin. Dirt and dead skin and dried blood mixed together to paint an ugly landscape, but as far as injuries went, he didn’t pay it much mind. 

It wasn’t bad. It just also wasn’t pretty.

* * *

Yuuri woke with a start, a vague impression that he was falling through the ice of the rink into an endless darkness below leaving him gasping as he sat up. The memory faded too fast for him to hold onto, turning into a lingering sense of unease and a bleary-eyed glance to the foot of his bed, expecting to find Viktor there. With no man or dog was in sight, Yuuri frowned, mind and heart sluggishly moving toward believing _something was wrong._

There was no actual evidence anything was wrong. It wasn’t even the first time Viktor hadn’t been there when Yuuri woke during the night. The feeling still lingered, Yuuri’s heart racing from the dream he could no longer remember. He reached for his glasses, shoving them on and scooting off his bed. He wouldn’t be able to sleep until he’d checked in with Viktor anyway. 

Stifling a yawn, he shuffled toward his door, noting it was closed, which didn’t mean much. He peered out, glimpsing light escaping from the restroom down the hall. In this section of his family’s home there was only his room, the banquet room being used as storage, and the restroom. Everything else was on a different level, including his family’s private kitchen. Mari occasionally used the bathroom here, but it seemed unlikely at this hour of the night.

He rolled his shoulders as he continued his shuffle down the hall, arguing with himself over how long he’d hover near the door. He couldn’t hear a shower running, which cut out one possibility. There were other sounds he might hear, but he didn’t need to play guessing games; he could simply ask at the door. He sighed and rubbed his face. Of course he’d just knock. His common sense hadn’t bothered waking up at the same time the rest of him had.

Yuuri hesitated when he reached the door, then lifted his hand, fingers curling in toward his palm. The polite rap of his knuckles against wood was followed by a quiet call, as if anyone else was on this level to hear him this time of the night. “Victor?”

“Yuuri, you’re up? You can come in.”

Yuuri stared at the door handle, reaching out to turn it before he could convince himself he wasn’t worried. “Just woke up,” he said, squinting against the light as he slipped inside, eyes trained on the floor. He saw Viktor’s legs over near the toilet, following the line of his shin up to his knee and seeing (quite unintentionally) that Viktor was partially dressed in underwear. The rich blue of lace hugged his thighs, his groin covered with a more solid stretch of material. Viktor was wearing a shirt too, one of the faded ones Yuuri had folded in his drawers, but there was something about the lace that was so familiar…

Those thoughts fled as he registered the bottle of iodine and the small mound of used cotton gauze all neatly stacked on the side of the counter nearest to Viktor.

“You’re hurt! How did I forget you were hurt?” Yuuri sunk down to his knees in front of him, peering at the raw abrasion stretching across his outer thigh. 

“Yuuri, it’s okay—”

“It’s not!” Yuuri caught his rising voice, cutting back down to a hissing whisper. He stared Viktor in the face, gaze intense. “It’s not okay, Viktor. Don’t say that it _is_. I made a mistake tonight, and I won’t repeat it next time. You’re not supposed to get injured keeping me from getting hurt.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what I should be doing, both as your mentor and your coach.” Viktor’s attempt at chuckling was short lived, turning into a deep breath in and a quiet sigh out. “Yuuri…”

“Viktor.” Yuuri reached for the iodine bottle, pulling down a handful of cotton squares of gauze at the same time. “I know you’re helping me so much more than I can help you. At least let me do _this_.”

He dropped his eyes back to Viktor’s thigh, starting to clean the abrasion with as much care as he could summon. Viktor still breathed in sharply as Yuuri ran the gauze over raw skin, but he didn’t pull away or tell Yuuri to stop, so Yuuri continued his careful ministrations.

“You don’t have to do this, Yuuri.”

“No, maybe not.” He kept his eyes on his work on Viktor’s thigh. “I still want to, Viktor.”

Viktor went quiet, Yuuri chancing a look back at his face to find his expression inscrutable. He tipped his head to the side, bangs falling away from his face. “Okay.” Whatever else he’d been about to say was swallowed with a smile. “Far be it from me to tell you otherwise.”

They settled into silence, Viktor handing Yuuri more swathes of cotton as he finished cleaning the abrasion. He blew cool air over the stretch of irritated skin before spreading a thin layer of antibiotic ointment over the whole area. “There,” he announced, sitting back on his heels in satisfaction. “All done.”

Viktor held a mess of used gauze in his hands, twisting himself around just enough to get a good look down at his thigh. “Definitely looks better. Hopefully this will all scab over again before too long.” Depositing the gauze on the counter, Viktor stretched his arms overhead and made to stand. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Yuuri scooted back to give him room, bracing his hands against his legs to help himself up, his knees protesting the hard floor. Times like these he could understand the complaints of aching joints the older customers of the onsen had almost implicitly. He wasn’t sure that was so much a _good_ thing as it was an inevitable one.

Blue caught his eyes again, and this time when Yuuri glanced at the underwear Viktor wore from the corner of his eye, he finally understood what he was seeing. The lace curling around Viktor’s thigh and cupping his particularly fine assets _was_ familiar.

It was Phichit’s gag-gift to Yuuri for his twenty-third birthday _._

He had no idea he’d made any noise when recognition hit, but Viktor turned his way with a frown. “Yuuri?”

“Where did you even find those?! I thought I’d thrown them away!”

He hadn’t tried any such thing, feeling vague guilt over the idea of throwing away a gift, no matter how unlikely it was that he’d be parading around in them anytime soon. He wore them exactly the once that a cackling Phichit demanded, complete with Phichit attempting to take a photograph for _posteriority_ and ending with Yuuri sitting on Phichit until he promised he’d stop.

Yuuri still kept hold of Phichit’s phone until he’d changed back into his usual sleepwear. 

Now he stared in wide eyed surprise as Viktor looked down and pulled up the bottom of his borrowed shirt, exposing more of his lower back. “I thought I didn’t recognise these… Yuuri, why would you throw these away? Bad memories?”

Yuuri dragged his eyes away from their study of Viktor’s butt framed in lace and moved for the door. He was bolting, but only _a little_ bit of a bolt. “No memories!”

He heard Viktor behind him throwing away the used cotton squares and putting the iodine back into the medicine cabinet. The light from the bathroom cut out as Viktor stepped into the hall. “You don’t like spoiling yourself?”

“No comment!”

“Or even wearing them for a lover?”

“What, like you?” He said, snapping back in flustered defensiveness. The surprise on Viktor’s face was difficult to miss even in the relative darkness of the hall, as was the movement further down the hall behind them both, Mari’s face and tied-back hair a shadow near the stairs. She lifted her hand in a half wave, unlit cigarette dangling from her fingers.

Yuuri blushed hard, reaching for Viktor’s hand and pulling him down the hall at a faster pace, practically shoving him into the room. He wished he had time to explain to Mari _this isn’t what you think_ , but magic was even harder to understand than why her brother possibly had a half-dressed relative stranger spending the night. He was an adult, and neither Mari nor his parents would be surprised, though they’d like to _meet_ anyone he was taking home to _their house for the night_. Even if that someone was his coach who they’d informally met in passing a few times now.

He didn’t realise he was leaning against his door with his hands shoved up under his glasses to cover his eyes until he registered Viktor speaking in a murmur, his gentle touch at his wrists getting Yuuri to lower his hands enough to see past them.

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“What?” Viktor blinked, letting his fingers linger at Yuuri’s wrist. “Didn’t mean what which way?”

“The underwear, in the hall. Or the hall and the underwear.” He rubbed his hands over his face, dislodging Viktor’s fingers in the process. “I didn’t mean… I don’t know. But Mari was there, and you’re looking like this, and I don’t know how I’d explain you turning into a poodle or that we’re not, that this isn’t—”

“Isn’t what?” Viktor hesitated before reaching out, taking Yuuri’s hands in his own. Yuuri didn’t have the heart to pull away. Viktor’s touch wasn’t warm, exactly, but it was grounding, and it meant he had to look him in the face and see whatever was waiting there.

As it was, Viktor looked politely mystified. “It’s okay, I think I understand. Your sister was there in the hall? I know we’ve been so busy with everything else we haven’t really tried to arrange a formal introduction between me and your family. Would it help if we do? You have the magic. It’s your decision how we use it, you know that, right?”

Viktor’s thumbs passed over Yuuri’s knuckles, the touch just shy of being too soft to properly feel. Yuuri knew they’d pushed off the formal introduction, but that’d been as much his fault as Viktor’s for not wanting to handle that or arrange for Minako to be there on top of everything else. Yuuko, Takeshi, and their girls were the only people in Hasetsu who’d officially met Viktor as Viktor Nikiforov, not just Vitya the silver toy poodle that Viktor left in Yuuri’s care.

He gave Viktor’s hands a squeeze. It wasn’t the first time Viktor had offered to officially meet Yuuri’s family. Now with his sister believing he was sleeping with Viktor in a sense far different from the reality, pushing it off any further would make it seem like he was ashamed of _Viktor_. He couldn’t let that stand.

“I know, and you’re right.” He drummed up a smile, little more than a twitch of his lips. “I think it’s time you officially came over for dinner and a dip in the hot springs. Is that okay?”

He watched Viktor do his mental math before nodding, a firm gesture followed by smile. “More than okay. If you confirm a date with your parents tomorrow, we can go shopping for a gift before that night.”

“... Your stuff has been here for weeks. _Now_ is when you bring a welcome gift?”

“Count it as an apology for the intrusion, too.”

Yuuri stared at him, breaking down into a soft laugh as he pushed off the door. “They don’t mind. If they did, all your stuff would have been out with the garbage for collection weeks ago.” He enjoyed the over the top look of horror on Viktor’s face as he slipped past him to the bed, pushing his covers back to crawl back under the sheets. Left with only the light of the moon streaming around the edges of his curtains, exhaustion finally setting in.

“Yuuri, will you help get one of my suits out of those boxes? I’d like to get it dry cleaned before I meet your parents, if at all possible.”

Yuuri lazily pulled his glasses off his face, tucking them to the side of his pillow. “Sure, sure. They’re not going to care, you know that, right?”

Viktor arranged the blankets over him, Yuuri wondering when in the world he’d gotten used to the feeling. Next he would drag the spare blanket over the foot of Yuuri’s bed up to curl under, knowing it was a matter of minutes before he’d be back to dog form. Tonight was no exception, Viktor answering as he moved to snag the blanket.

“If you say so.” There was no chance Viktor had changed his mind about the suit. Yuuri snorted, a soft sound that had his lips pulling up into a wry, fond smile. He had to keep his thoughts superficial. If he let himself think about why it mattered so much to Viktor, he could feel it crush his heart.

Viktor cared so much about those short periods of time he was human, and yet he still didn’t complain for every time Yuuri’s magic left him human and naked as the day he was born. There had to be something he could do, more than carrying a change of clothing around for Viktor just in case.

Yuuri shifted forward as Viktor joined him, expecting their backs to touch as usual in the small space of Yuuri’s bed. He wondered if he’d ever be brave enough to turn over and face Viktor instead of the wall while he was still awake. He’d woken up often enough with Viktor clutched to his chest as a poodle to know his wariness of Viktor’s personal space disappeared as he slept. 

A knee nudging at his legs through the blankets gave him pause. Yuuri turned his head Viktor’s way, brow furrowed, to find him facing Yuuri’s back.

“Normally I’d face the other way, but...” Viktor raised his injured elbow, implying the same for his thigh. 

Yuuri felt self-directed horror lance through him. “Ah, Viktor, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking—”

Viktor finished settling himself on his uninjured side, reaching out to ruffle Yuuri’s hair. “It’s fine. It’s not going to be an issue for long anyway.”

His hand fell away and they both went silent, the blunt truth heavy between them. Yuuri half expected to hear Viktor shifting away. He startled when the weight of Viktor’s arm rested against his back instead, a subtle poke to his head following not long after.

“Woof.”

“... _Viktor_.”

“How come I never get to be the big spoon?”

“Viktor!”

He could hear Viktor laughing quietly behind him, but the outrage and embarrassment and the thrill that followed had done their work. The dark mood creeping in had been pushed back, and Yuuri almost rolled over to face Viktor.

“No one spoons anyone here.”

“Maybe not when I’m like _this_ , but I have plenty of evidence that suggests otherwise when I’m small and extra fuzzy.”

It was easier in the darkness to joke back like it didn’t have to mean anything, with Viktor patched up and wearing Yuuri’s clothes at his back, safe as any of them could be in the world. Easier to smile to himself and pretend he was bold, not haunted by self-doubt. 

“Then I guess you’ll have to act fast.”

He didn’t expect an arm to flop over his chest, or a leg to hitch up over his thigh, but knowing his own impulses to rise to even ridiculous challenges, perhaps he should have. Instead he went still and shivered as Viktor’s breath stirred the hairs at the back of his neck.

“Challenge accepted. Spooning engaged.” Viktor’s forehead came to rest against Yuuri’s shoulder. He heard the amused exhalation, then the softer sigh as Viktor remained where he was.

Yuuri’s face burned as he closed his eyes, fighting a losing battle with keeping his hands away from his face. He pulled them away with an act of willpower, tucking both hands under his chin.

“Goodnight, Yuuri.”

“You’re ridiculous,” he said, his voice barely above a mutter. Viktor snorted, offering no defense.

Yuuri heard his smile in his own voice when he wished Viktor goodnight in turn.

* * *

He did everything he could to slip out of bed and out of the _onsen_ in favour of a day training at the Ice Castle, on and off the ice, before his family could pull him aside. Why was he fighting against what he knew needed to happen? Introducing Viktor to his family properly as his coach made sense, and if they hadn’t been so caught up in juggling two different types of training at once, it wouldn’t have been an issue in the first place, excepting the canine conundrum.

Introducing his family to his coach and mentor meant he needed him to stay human, which in turn meant it was time to test Viktor’s theory about using multiple magic storing artifacts one after another to keep him from transforming back into his cursed form.

They discussed it that morning.

“You never mentioned this was a theory!”

“It wouldn’t make sense if it didn’t work the way I proposed. Even magic follows its own internal logic.” Viktor hopped up on the bench, sitting prim and pretty while Yuuri continued frowning down at him. The small purple rose hair tie in his silver curls was cute, and also part of Yuuri’s current source of consternation.

“You’re really willing to test that in front of my family? The family who probably thinks we’re, you know.” Yuuri lifted his hands, grasping for a word that wouldn’t come.

“What? Lovers?”

He threw his hands up, frustration and another emotion he didn’t choose to examine filling his chest. “Yes!”

Viktor whined, but the wag of his tail and perking of his ears gave lie to whatever complaint he might have otherwise made. “You make it sound so horrible! Why, Yakov even knew about my first lover, when I was—”

“Not the point!”

That time Viktor’s ears did flick back, leading to him canting his head to the side and lifting one paw to hold out to Yuuri. “Then please tell me what the point here is?”

“The point is… Mari said we’re having you over for dinner the night after next, and you’re going to rely on a bunch of magic I stored in hair ties.”

Viktor waved his paw at Yuuri, keeping his foot held in the air. “Yes, and it will be fine. I have faith in your abilities, Yuuri. On the ice and off the ice, as the case may be. Now!” He lowered his paw, sitting up straighter and giving a friendly wag of his tail. He enjoyed getting to chat in public spaces when there was no one to crowd around and keep him forcibly silent in an effort to spare the awkward questions.

He’d seen Yuuri claim exactly once to be a ventriloquist with a specialty in Viktor impressions. As much as he’d laughed about that after, he’d seen the stress Yuuri had been feeling at the time.

“Now what?”

“Now we discuss how dinner will go, and what you want me to tell your parents.”

“Isn’t the truth enough?” Yuuri sighed, coming to sit next to Viktor on the bench. “No, I know it’s not that simple. Why are we doing this, again?”

“So I have a chance to share a meal with your family and Minako, I think. How much drinking’s going to be involved?”

Yuuri went pale, feeling a little lightheaded. “Oh _no_.”

Viktor stood up, patting Yuuri’s leg with a paw and nudging at his arm with his nose. “It won’t be that bad, I know how to behave myself.”

Yuuri turned his horrified gaze on Viktor. “It’s not you I’m worried about.”

Viktor didn’t have eyebrows as a dog, but the tufts of whiskers that stood over each eye perked up in a close facsimile, as long as Yuuri was trying to read human expression on a dog’s face. “Then who?”

“My father,” he said, groaning and rubbing his face. “And me, but I don’t plan on drinking that much.” Unless there was no other way to get through dinner. He was introducing his coach and mentor! Why did it feel like he was introducing their future son-in-law?

Likely because he was worried over what Mari thought she witnessed, for all he knew she wouldn’t say a word outside of teasing him. Any other small, wild fantasy about it being true one day that came along with those thoughts was firmly shoved away. His life priorities had to deal with reclaiming the shambles of his skating career without embarrassing his coach and the whole of his town who supported him, and keeping his hold on magic so that he could help break Viktor’s curse. There was no more appropriate way of saying _thank you for everything you’ve done, now please get back on the ice so I can meet you there._

Yuuri dropped his hands back to his lap, turning his head to look at Viktor. “They already know you’re my coach. They never met Celestino.”

“Did Celestino ever come to stay at the _onsen_?”

“No, he didn’t.” Yuuri sighed, not sure why he was talking in circles when the course of action was already decided. “You really think this is going to work?” He gestured toward the hairband in Viktor’s curls.

“I know it will. The better questions are when are we going to go pick up something appropriate to bring as a welcome gift, and are they done dry-cleaning my suit?”

He had to admit following Viktor’s priorities kept him distracted if nothing else. “Oshida-san said it would be ready tomorrow afternoon.”

“Great! Then today, we focus on the present.”

“Aren’t we living in it?” Yuuri let his smile quirk his lips up at the corners as Viktor laughed in his canine way, jumping up to bounce both paws off Yuuri’s shoulder.

“ _Yuuri!_ ”

“You know they’d appreciate any small thing from Saint Petersburg, right?”

“Which would be easy if I had anything from…” Viktor paused, tipping his head to the left. His tail started wagging as he laughed, tongue lolling out of his open mouth. “Oh, I’ve got it! I’ve got it. We can pick up some of everyone’s favourite alcohol at the store, and I know what I can add as a little touch of Russia!”

“... It’s not a picture of you, is it?”

Viktor made a noise of curious surprise, head tilting to the right this time. “No. Are framed self-portraits a gift people give each other in Japan?”

Yuuri really wanted to say yes, because that would help legitimize him having a portrait of Viktor shoved in his desk drawer that had absolutely gone to college with him, but he didn’t. “Not self-portraits so much as… family portraits, or your hometown, I guess. I don’t know. Usually I bring back food or small souvenirs for everyone.” 

Viktor hummed, hopping down off the bench. “I wish I’d thought about that before packing. We’ll have to make do. Where’s the best store for whatever it is your family likes drinking?”

Yuuri stood with a grunt, eyeing Viktor’s furry backside with a frown. “Please try to be restrained in your purchases, Viktor.”

Viktor glanced back toward Yuuri, wagging his tail once in a perky statement. “With you coming along as a consultant is the only way it’s happening, so by a certain amount of default, aren’t we going to have to be? I can’t access my accounts until we’re home on your laptop.”

Which was the exact moment that Yuuri remembered Viktor didn’t have a wallet, because he was, in fact, _a dog_. He groaned, rubbing his face. Yes, Viktor could transfer the money from his account once they were back home, but Yuuri would need to cover the costs in the meantime.

On the bright side, it meant Viktor was right: he couldn’t go over the top with Yuuri in charge of the actual spending.

* * *

Yuuri could admit when he was wrong. He was an adult, he was mature, and he was currently being given the world’s most effective puppy eyes after the ones that Vicchan had mastered after living with Yuuri for one month and learning just how prone he was to sharing scraps off the table.

“Viktor, we really don’t need to bring my mother an eyeglass cleaning cloth.”

“She lost the one she had two weeks ago, it would be thoughtful!”

“You don’t think that’d be too strangely aware of things you shouldn’t know about?”

“Isn’t it possible you could know and tell me to aid your coach out when trying to buy polite, small gifts for your family when he meets them?”

Yuuri stared at the ceiling, eyes following the lines of the tiles there. He knew he was going to say yes, even though he wasn’t sure how to explain him being more perceptive than he was. When had Viktor even heard his mom talking about losing her glasses cleaning cloth?

“Yuuri?” Viktor took care to speak in a murmur, easier to disguise as someone talking over Yuuri’s currently visible and on phone. 

He sighed, glancing down to Viktor. “Okay,” he said, trying to ignore his urge to smile as Viktor leapt up and danced around. He had no idea if Viktor would be doing the same as his usual self, but the sight of a toy poodle hopping around on his hind legs warmed his heart.

It didn’t really explain how he had a bottle of affordable whiskey his father enjoyed, an eyeglass cleaning cloth, and a copy of one of the magazines following music trends across Japan in his cart, because honestly, the only one he’d known was the answer to what would his father appreciate for drinking. He could have named Mari’s preferred cigarette brand too, in no small part because it hadn’t changed in the last ten years.

Viktor’s insistence in picking up something to wrap the gifts led to a few creative choices in bags and tissue paper, Yuuri left to try and assemble the gifts while Viktor activated his first magic charm for the night to change in the locker rooms at the Ice Castle. They’d debated between using the Ice Castle and one of the hotels in town, but the additional expense just to explain where Viktor might be staying short term when they’d studiously already attempted to ignore that he had to come and go from _somewhere_ was absurd to them both.

Still, after having helped Viktor unpack one of his suits and sending it to the local dry cleaners alongside the shirt Viktor had deemed appropriate to his canine eyes, he was a little excited to see him all dressed up again. Telling him it was really too formal hadn’t changed Viktor’s initial opinion, which upon reflection seemed to be more about taking the chance to appear like the proper coach Viktor thought he needed to be over anything else.

Yuuri hadn’t told him he was going over the top again. He’d simply nodded and wondered if that was going to be normal once they were in the competitive season proper as he rolled the whiskey bottle in tissue paper and shoved it into a decorative bag. Dropping in two of the foil-wrapped chocolates Viktor had asked Yuuri to dig out of another box added the touch of Russia Viktor had promised. Not good chocolate, Viktor said, but _Russian_ chocolate right out of his childhood. Which had to count for something.

Viktor finished with his tie, reaching for his jacket as Yuuri set the last bag down next to the other two. “That was quick,” he said, flashing Yuuri a smile. He’d already moved the hair ties Yuuri had filled with his magic into his pockets, activating one every fifteen minutes. They were hoping on keeping things under three hours, Viktor grim at that cost for a non-competitive event, but they’d planned for five. Just in case.

“These were easy to wrap.” He held up his empty hands, offering a small smile. “What about you?”

“Almost ready.” Viktor had foregone his three piece suit in favour of the two piece, which he left open as he smoothed out the line of his tie. “Did you see where I left my cufflinks?”

Yuuri leaned forward, squinting as he studied the bench by Viktor. “Are they gold?”

“Yes, the gold ones.” Viktor turned and looked down at the bench, catching sight of them as Yuuri did. “Ah! Right here! Thank you.” He plucked them off the bench, approaching Yuuri with a smile. 

“How are we looking?”

Yuuri had a sneaking suspicion Viktor was actually nervous. Not much, and probably not for the reasons Yuuri would have been in a reverse situation, but there were other stresses and worries to juggle. Like the very real possibility of turning into a toy poodle if he messed up on his timing with activating the next magic hair tie.

“You look great.” Yuuri said as he stood, picking up the wrapped gifts. 

“Thank you, Yuuri, but I meant on time.” Viktor smiled, some of the tension leaving him as he chuckled and worked on his cufflinks. 

“Ah, well, we were doing great on that too,” he said, blurting out the words and staring pointedly at the door. When he quirked up an eyebrow, it was to find Viktor already at his side, placing a hand against the middle of his back and gently propelling him forward. 

“Were we taking a cab over?”

“I called one. They should be waiting out front, or be arriving soon if not.”

Yuuri handed off the gifts as they walked through the building, moving to turn off light switches and check on all the small details that the Nishigori family trusted him with on the nights where he stayed on later than they did. Which was fair enough; Yuuri had put in time on the ice leading up to showering and getting ready for tonight, and they’d gone home an hour earlier.

Locking the front doors once they’d exited, Yuuri breathed out in a sigh, tucking the keys away into his backpack. He felt frumpy next to Viktor, but he was also practically dressed in a clean set of workout clothes. He didn’t _smell_ like sweat, which is what would count. 

He maintained this opinion most of the way home, while Viktor’s subtle shampoo kept catching his attention. It wasn’t how Viktor usually smelled, and while it was nice, it was also strange to realise even in these small ways, Viktor was making an effort.

Is this what it would be like if Viktor were always able to be human, freely and without concern? Subtle scented perfumes and suits? No, even thinking back on all the many articles he’d read on Viktor over the years, he knew Viktor’s wardrobe was as often comfortable as formal. 

He was still puzzling over the thought when they arrived and stepped out of their shoes to accept the slippers standard for the onsen. Introducing Viktor to his parents and sister while watching his response, Yuuri realised how much he wanted everyone to get along.

Viktor looked genuinely happy to be formally introduced to Yuuri’s family. Something so normal, that Yuuri had been pushing off, and Viktor had been for more magically impractical reasons.

He didn’t wonder why it made his heart ache to see now. Not after watching the hand-off of gifts that managed to be inexpensive enough not to be ostentatious, to the spirited conversation that his father, Toshiya, started into regarding Viktor’s familiarity with a sport called _soccer_ to his mother, Hiroko, having arranged with the cook that worked in their kitchens to have a whole traditional meal of their best dishes ready for their small, private dinner party held in a side dining space. Minako arrived late, but she swept in like only she could, claiming a space at the table and leaning forward, gaze intent upon Viktor.

“So where do you think our Yuuri is going to go this season?”

Viktor tipped his water glass toward her, taking a temporary break from the beer Mari had been serving. “Isn’t that a better question to ask him directly?”

Minako turned her laser focus on Yuuri, and the rest of dinner seemed to pass in a blur of questions and conversation he half remembered, along with one pertinent point: Viktor allowed that it was a break day, and Yuuri _ate_. He knew he’d be working it all off in the following week, but he’d take that for one night’s happy indulgence of his family’s recipes.

He didn’t think about the secondary danger until well after it’d already embarked. Minako, Toshiya, and Viktor were all drinkers. Yuuri knew this factually for two of them, and inferred it from comments made by Viktor, who lamented that intoxication wasn’t a wise state for a dog that didn’t way more than four kilograms. The reality only really hit when he was handed a tumbler filled with two shots of whiskey over ice, staring down into the glass and then back to his father.

Toshiya raised his glass with a smile and an inquisitive hike of his eyebrow.

Yuuri raised his in turn.

“ _Kanpai!_ ”

As long as he stuck to the one, everything would be _fine_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's going to be an extra chapter posted this week, in honour of Tentacle Yuuri Week, so this is up early!


	7. tangled up in your embrace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri and Viktor end their night on a good note. When the press comes to find out if Viktor's really in town, Yuuri ends up needing a break from the constant badgering. A nighttime jog on the beach takes a turn for the dangerous when he encounters a powerful shade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't drink and then soak in hot tubs or hot springs! Really bad combination for many reasons, and I love you all, so stay safe!
> 
> The artwork in this chapter may be risque for public consumption, fair warning!

Viktor rather enjoyed meeting all of Yuuri’s family and spending time with Minako and Toshiya. Their vastly different experiences in life and a shared fondness for both telling stories and asking questions of Viktor in return kept him engaged. Minako was much more direct, asking figure skating questions that made her status as a fan of the sport and many of its top skaters apparent. Her opinion on the likelihood of Chris taking gold at both Europeans and Worlds this next season was well informed, though not all seeing.

“Yuuri has more than a good chance with the short program we’ve been working on. I think he’s still waiting on music for the free skate, but once we have that, it should be a straightforward process in choreographing his skate for that one, too.”

“So you’re saying you think Yuuri has a chance of winning gold?” Minako had her elbows planted on the table, eyes trained on Viktor, attention unwavering. She was intense, and he liked that about her.

“More than a chance. He has all the skill and drive, and with his current PCS scores, he has an edge on many of the men currently skating at his level. Once his TES are tightened up, he’ll be giving everyone the skate of a lifetime, I know it.”

Minako nodded, a slow, deliberate, and assessing movement. “Yuuri’s always had the potential. I’d like to see him reaching beyond everywhere he’s gone before. I want my excuse to head to the Grand Prix Final as well as Worlds, Yuuri, do you hear me?”

She lifted her glass and held it overhead, Toshiya catching sight of the movement and breaking off his conversation with Yuuri to lift his own glass high. Mari shook her head, lifting her glass too. She was rotating in and out of dinner with Hiroko, taking turns covering the dining area and the handful of locals finishing up their evening soaks with a meal.

Yuuri was last to hold up his glass, Viktor having followed suit once he saw Mari lift hers. “Yeah, yeah,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck and looking a little pained, “But I’m still not telling you what rooms everyone’s staying in.”

“Spoilsport,” Minako said, and then it was another round of cheers and drinks before conversation continued.

Aside from the buzzing of his phone as a reminder every fourteen minutes or so, Viktor was having a wonderful, relatively relaxed evening. He barely noted his slide into a steadily more inebriated state, only knowing that at some point his jacket departed, and then his tie had to be loosened, and then the top two buttons of his shirt had to be undone. He was still hot, but less overwhelmingly so, and every time he saw Yuuri glancing his way, he tried to send him a reassuring smile. 

It was at the point where Toshiya stood up and found a marker and drew a face on his stomach, beating on it and dancing around in his impression of a _tanuki_ that Viktor realised oh, he was probably drunk too. He checked on his supply of magical artifacts, comforted by the warm promise of several more hair ties still waiting to be used. Toshiya was a riot, possibly even to a fully sober crowd. To the small crowd he had now, he was hysterical and embarrassing. Toshiya abandoned them altogether after a while in search of friends in the dining hall, and Hiroko hurried on after him, stifling her laughter behind a hand.

Minako snorted, waving at their backs. “Where are you going? Did someone tell Toshiya the game’s on again? There’s nothing really good on television tonight, I checked all the schedules…” She sighed, slumping forward and pushing her glass away. 

Yuuri made his way around the table on his hands and knees, sliding himself into Viktor’s lap with the grace of a drunken cat. One moment Viktor’s lap was empty; the next, there was Yuuri. He glanced from Yuuri to Minako as he found Yuuri looping his arms around his neck, but Minako only snorted again and sat up, waving at them both.

“I’m visiting the ladies room. You two, behave.” Standing with a dancer’s grace, she teetered, then resolutely marched out through the open panel.

Which left Viktor alone with Yuuri. Two warm hands pressed to either cheek, turning Viktor’s head until he was meeting Yuuri’s heated look head on.

“Hello, Yuuri. How are you feeling?”

“Good. You’re looking at me.” His expression never wavered; Yuuri leaned in, pressing their foreheads together with his hands still boxing in Viktor’s face. “I like when you look at me. When I’m skating, and even,” he said, trailing off as his hands slide down to Viktor’s neck and out to his shoulders. Yuuri leaned in and spoke by his ear in a voice he might have thought was a murmur, but was actually at normal speaking volume. “When I’m doing magic stuff.”

Viktor chuckled, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. He wasn’t a ticklish man most the time, but having a lap full of Yuuri speaking by his ear was having an unfortunate effect on his attempts _not_ to find it alluring. “That’s good, since I’ll have to be looking at you to be your coach, as well as your mentor. I don’t think looking away helps things.”

“No,” Yuuri said, leaning back again to stare at Viktor’s face. “It doesn’t. Does not. Not at all.” His eyes brightened and he gasped, letting go of one shoulder in order to hold his clenched fist up by his chin. He sounded almost breathless as he declared his next bit of logic. “So never look away!”

Yuuri, he decided, was definitely more drunk than he was, but he was also adorable, and needed to stop _squirming around_ in Viktor’s lap. “Okay,” he said, smiling as he watched Yuuri’s smile bloom all over again. Yuuri looked so ridiculously pleased with himself Viktor wanted to laugh, but he also didn’t want that expression to leave. “That’s easy. I love watching you.”

“You _do_ ,” Yuuri said, as if it was a revelation all on it’s own. “Though no one should watch anyone at the _onsen_. It’s rude.” Yuuri’s gaze fell down to Viktor’s tie and the top of his button down, eyes slowly widening once more. “Viktor! Viktor, you have to try the hot springs. Right now!” Yuuri started fumbling with his tie. “They’re the _best_ , and you feel so good, and you can watch me to see how we _use_ them. Your shampoo smells nice,” he said, an apparent non sequitur followed by him leaning closer and audibly sniffing. “Very nice.”

“Thank you, but Yuuri, do you think now’s really the time? I have to bring along the right protections, remember?” He brought his hands over Yuuri’s, stilling them in the process of pulling off his tie.

Yuuri wrinkled his nose, squinting as he considered this conundrum. “All those hair ties,” he said, sighing and letting his head droop forward. He perked back up after a few seconds of silence. “Just wear them! After the rinse. I’ll hold them. Like flowers, all the pretty little magic batteries.” Yuuri pulled his hands out from under Viktor’s, abandoning his attack on the tie to unceremoniously start searching for his pants pockets.

Yuuri had one hand shoved into Viktor’s left pocket, pushing in and dragging the pocket inward across Viktor’s thigh as he dug for the hair ties. Viktor hadn’t considered it a flaw to have his pockets not sewn down at the bottoms before now, hurriedly grabbing for Yuuri’s wrist as he scooped up several of the magic storage artifacts and brushed against the half-hard length of something else.

“Yuuri!” He laughed, too breathy, and Yuuri stared at him with wide eyes. Where he expected Yuuri to turn red and scramble away, he instead only pulled his hand out, flushed cheeks darkening a degree. 

“Sorry,” he said, half falling out of Viktor’s lap with several hair ties clutched in his hand. “To the hot springs!” 

Lurching to his feet, Yuuri danced his way out of the room, hips swaying and limbs loose as he went. Viktor surreptitiously stretched his legs before following, knees objecting and lower legs tingling from sitting so long.

He hoped he was calmed down by the time they reached the locker room. 

Hiroko watched them mosey past, calling out to Yuuri in their native tongue. Viktor listened, picking out some of what was being said, inferring the rest as best he could. Something about the hot springs, and not late? His Japanese was a work in progress, though he understood more than he could speak. 

Yuuri insisted on keeping hold of all the hair ties, pulling them over his hand and leaving them banded around his wrist. Two lockers, two bathing stations, and Yuuri’s insistence on marching through the tiled interior rooms to the outside springs later, Viktor was getting his first proper look of the outdoor pools at Yu-topia Katsuki.

He found it all enchanting, from the independent baths that stood on the raised cement to the right, to the springs and its fountain and the large stones set into the sides. Steam rose and drifted on the light breeze that swept through the area, whispering through the flora planted around parts of the spring.

It was a different kind of heaven, sinking into that heat. Toshiya hadn’t joined them, intent on his entertainment in the dining hall, but there was at least one other guest still soaking in the warmth. Viktor settled in, arms hooked over the lip of the pool, towel folded over his head as Yuuri had insisted before they’d slid into the waters.

Yuuri breathed out in a happy sigh, voice almost sing-song as he spoke. “Aches, aches, go away, come back again some other day.” He turned around, resting his folded arms on the side of the main pool. He lay his head on his arms, closing his eyes and making a sound of deep contentment.

Viktor smiled, slow and lazy, allowing his eyes to close in turn. It was nice, almost nice enough to lose track of time, but years of necessity had given him a sixth sense for tracking the minutes as they ticked past. He lifted an arm, gesturing to Yuuri as he estimated he was coming close to his time limit.

Yuuri, eyes still closed, didn’t see him.

“Yuuri?”

“Mmm.”

“Hair tie?”

“Mmm.” Yuuri opened his eyes, blinking blearily and sitting up, stifling a yawn. He stretched an arm overhead, extending the one with the hair ties collected at his wrist toward Viktor. “How long have we been in here?”

“Ten minutes or so, I think.” The older man stirred himself, shooting a curious look their way as he shuffled slowly toward the edge of the pool closer to the building entrance. Viktor flashed him a smile as he slipped an elastic band off Yuuri’s hand. Several small, green flowers that might have been carnations decorated the one he held; he slid it over his hand to settle it around his wrist in turn. “How much longer are you going to stay awake?”

As he activated the artifact, breathing in while the familiar magic flooded his system, he watched Yuuri. Was it a good idea to stay in here for long when they’d both been drinking? Probably not; they were going to end up even more dehydrated. The responsible thing would be to wrangle them both back inside to water glasses and then, quite probably, to bed.

“As long as I need to,” Yuuri said at a delay, eyes wandering around the area. He returned his attention to Viktor, shifting his body so that he was properly facing him. “Forever sounds nice. Are we going to get out?”

“In another ten minutes or so.”

Yuuri hummed acknowledgement and arranged himself to lean against the side of the springs again. This time his eyes stayed open, watching Viktor with quiet intensity.

“They like you, you know.”

“Hm?” Viktor glanced over to Yuuri, tipping his head to the side to do so.

“My family. Minako-sensei. They all like you. You don’t have to worry about that, I know it’s true.”

Had he been worrying? He considered it, finding on some level, yes; less about being accepted or liked, but having an understanding that his seemingly more eccentric nature could be tolerated and wasn’t a detriment to Yuuri’s career or talent. Minako had been the only hard pressure, and she asked questions with a canny mind and enough polite bluntness to amuse him. He appreciated the directness. Yuuri was more than capable of the same, and he had a feeling he might have gained a measure of that from Minako’s influence in his life.

“What makes you say that?”

“All of it. Dad drank the whiskey, mom enjoyed watching you eat, and Mari didn’t go smoke. They’re polite, but they weren’t only being polite.” He waved his hand, trying to make a gesture to encompass the _onsen_ and its entrance. “They like you.” 

They were alone for the time being, under the lights and dark expanse of the summer skies. Viktor was warm from the water and a lingering frisson of warmth from Yuuri’s collected magic coursing through his system. Yet another warmth spread through his chest, leaving him smiling before he realised what he was doing.

Yuuri leaned closer, reaching out toward Viktor’s lips, fingertip hovering without quite touching. “Shh,” he said, carefully pressing his finger to Viktor’s lips. It was too firm, but for a drunk, it was remarkably controlled. “Don’t speak.”

Viktor lifted his eyebrows, staring back at Yuuri as Yuuri squinted back at him. They stayed like that for what felt like hours, but wasn’t more than a minute. Then Yuuri smiled, pulling his finger away. “There.”

“There?” Viktor reached up to brush his fingers over his lips, unsure what was going on in Yuuri’s mind. He opted to ignore the lingering sensation of Yuuri’s finger pressed against his lips.

“It’s sunk in.”

Viktor was still lost. “What has? That your family likes me?”

Yuuri nodded, deliberate and slow. “You are important to me. And they like you.” Yuuri patted Viktor’s cheek before shifting away, hauling himself up out of the water. 

Viktor stared up at Yuuri’s backside, blinking and wide eyed. Not at the sight, for all part of him registered it was a very nice backside, but at what perplexing series of statements and actions Yuuri had just taken, and why the hell they left Viktor’s heart feeling squeezed and happy all at once.

* * *

He was exhausted the next day, learning the hard way that using that much magic to keep his curse at bay bore a heavier toll than his short intermittent bursts. Viktor felt his joints aching as a dog, refusing to say anything as he half jumped, half fell off Yuuri’s bed in the morning. He hit the ground with a grunt, staggering and catching himself with a clattering of claws before he flopped on his side. He even asked Yuuri to bike with him in the basket over to the Ice Castle; he felt a little better with the sea air blowing through his fur.

The exhaustion cleared up by the afternoon, leaving Viktor feeling as spry as before, albeit finding his energy levels still weren’t fully recovered. 

It was easier now that Yuuri was the one replenishing Viktor’s magic storage artifacts; Yuuri’s magic felt more natural to Viktor than the drained and collected magic from sporting events. Still, the toll it took on him was proportionately higher the longer he bound magic to him in such an awkward way.

The other unintentional consequence of his dinner with Yuuri’s family came in the form of press descending on the onsen chasing after the rumour of Viktor’s presence. Which of course wasn’t incorrect, but it meant that Vitya the poodle had to be even more careful about appearing in front of crowds. It also meant that Viktor _had_ to put in an appearance or two, which meant discussing how to handle these things with Yuuri. His magic was responsible for allowing Viktor this limited freedom in the first place.

Yuuri was willing and happy to help, but Viktor didn’t want him exhausted over unimportant details like the press in their search for the former Hero of Russia. He didn’t want his time eaten up performing for them when Yuuri was far more important, and far more motivating in turn.

Yuuri seemed to be okay, until just as abruptly, he wasn’t. Weeks of dealing with people asking for interviews and Yuuri continuously having to refer them back to the Japanese Skating Federation rather than deal with them himself culminated in Yuuri asking that they take a detour one night so he could get in some beach running, claiming it helped him clear his head.

Viktor agreed, thinking it was nice to have a change of pace, only to be asked to stay back and watch over Yuuri’s skate bag and the rest of his things. While Yuuri, alone, jogged down the beach, away from the vestiges of civilization toward the darker parts of the coastline. That stretch of the beach didn’t pass by any residences; just a few dark windowed commercial buildings left empty this time of the night in Hasetsu.

Viktor sighed, getting up to turn another circle and settle down against Yuuri’s skate bag for the fifth time since Yuuri left. He didn’t mind being left behind, really, and it was for a logical reason, but he still found it hard to relax as he listened to the waves crashing against the shore. The moon was out and brilliant at this hour, reflecting off the shifting waves in its own familiar, mesmerising way. He’d seen similar moonrises over the harbour in Saint Petersburg. The burst of nostalgia that thought pulled out of him left him restless, watching the waters and wondering when Yuuri would be back.

The feeling grew more intense, no longer nostalgia, but an ache, a wanting he couldn’t define. Wanting what? Almost jealous of something? Viktor puzzled over it, wondering what in the world was going on, before it clicked.

It wasn’t what he was feeling. It was Yuuri. 

Adrenaline surged through him as he jumped to his feet, taking off at a run down the way Yuuri had jogged. He flew across the sand, muscles protesting as he stretched them further to gain speed over the dry sand. Once he hit the packed sand closer to the waves, he flew, ears flapping in the wind as he outraced the incoming waves trying to reach Yuuri.

The sick feeling in his chest grew worse, his eyes picking out the shape of Yuuri, transformed, facing down a darker form with serpentine arms. Or were those tentacles? He couldn’t tell from this distance, could only see how Yuuri darted back and held up what might have been a flogger to fend off the shade.

“Yuuri!”

Viktor was still too far away, feeling Yuuri’s distress now more keenly than before. The shade flowed forward, wrapping dark limbs around Yuuri. Yuuri wasn’t struggling anymore, his distress morphing into resignation and acceptance as the shade ceased to hold him and started to flow _into_ him.

Darkness coalesced around Yuuri as Viktor cried out, forcing himself to go faster on his short, stubby legs. By the time he pulled to a stop, sending sand flying, Yuuri could be seen again in the middle of the shifting mass of shade.

Not fully possessed, but close.

“Yuuri!” Out of breath, he swallowed as the bulk of Yuuri’s attention came to rest on him with a tangible weight. Magic crashed over him, heavy and burning. Viktor jerked back, gritting his teeth as his transformation hit with more force than ever before, leaving him on his hands and knees in the damp sand. 

“Viktor.” Yuuri’s voice was lower, his aura darker as he stood on the beach. Ink-dark tentacles formed where his dark costume cut a line across his hips toward his groin. “You came!”

He stood, brushing sand off his knees as he regained his feet, smile bright and toothier than he intended. “Why wouldn’t I?” 

Yuuri moved into touching distance, his two longest tentacles snaking forward to brush past Viktor’s calves. They were strangely smooth, not quite warm, but not cold either. Viktor shivered in involuntary reflex, keeping his eyes focused on Yuuri’s face.

“Because I’m not worth it,” Yuuri said, waving his flogger wand to gesture between them and back toward the town. “The moment you realise that’s true, you’ll leave. It’s the smart thing to do,” he said, tentacles starting to wind around Viktor’s legs, edging higher. Two shorter tentacles brushed either side of his waist, ends raking up his back with a gentle, steady pressure. “But I don’t want that to happen.”

Keeping still was both the hardest and simplest challenge Viktor had ever faced in his magical life. Yuuri’s tentacles wrapped around his arms and legs, his familiar magic combining with a darker, grasping sensation unique to the possessing shade. One magic Viktor welcomed; the other set him on edge, like sandpaper rubbing against his skin. It made it difficult to focus on Yuuri’s words.

“You’re not worth what, Yuuri? Being around? Coaching? Mentoring? Having as a friend?” Viktor’s arms were pulled behind his back, gently kept together with one of Yuuri’s tentacles coiled around his wrists. He tugged against Yuuri’s hold, feeling the tightening of muscle in response. “I’m not going to leave, Yuuri. I don’t _want_ to leave.”

Yuuri wound another tentacle around around Viktor’s ankles. He was lifted in one smooth motion, supported solely by tentacles, held suspended in front of Yuuri. Tentacles wound around both legs, keeping them pressed tightly together, one above Viktor’s knees and another above his ankles. The dark material of Yuuri’s costume blended with the soft, opalescent sheen of his tentacles, reflecting what light the full moon provided them from where it hung low over the sea.

Yuuri’s voice was low and intense when he spoke, the miasma of the shade’s magic mixing poorly with Yuuri’s own magic to Viktor’s senses.

“You’re the first person I’ve ever wanted to hold onto, Viktor. All these people, all the media who’s come through town lately, they all say I’ve taken you away from the world. That you’ve given up on coming back to compete to coach some washed up skater from Japan.” Yuuri shifted forward, eyes unfathomably dark. “I don’t want that to be true.”

“Yuuri, of course it isn’t true—”

“I know!” He clutched his wand, shaking his head. “I know it isn’t! But they don’t know about the curse, and if I can’t even show that your skill as a coach isn’t going to waste, then what good am I?”

“What good is an amateur coach if he can’t convince his student that he believes in him?” 

Viktor twisted his wrists, feeling the give in Yuuri’s hold. Slowly he pulled one hand free, patting Yuuri’s tentacle as an afterthought. He reached up, hand coming to rest on the tentacle snaking around his neck. There was no pressure there, only the weight of it on his shoulders. He wondered how heavily these worries weighed on Yuuri to be brought to the forefront like this by the shade trying to possess him. 

“Make no mistake, Yuuri, I believe in you. In your skating and the music you make on the ice, and in your magic and the way you’ve grown into your gift in such a short amount of time.” 

Viktor gave the tentacle in his hand a gentle squeeze. The tentacle holding his other hand behind his back slipped off his wrist and curled around his fingers and across his palm. He gave that one a reassuring squeeze as well. 

“Your family, Minako, the Nishigori’s, they all believe in you. You’re worth the world to any of us because you’re Yuuri Katsuki. Not because of things that haven’t happened yet, though they will, I know it, but for everything you already are.”

“Even if I’m still not good enough in the end?”

“Yuuri,” he said, leaning forward to cup Yuuri’s cheek with one hand. “I don’t think either one of us understand the concept of _enough_. So no, I don’t wonder if you’re good _enough_. I’m watching for every moment where you do better than your previous best. Until _you_ feel like you’ve truly done enough, and you have no regrets left to haunt you on the ice.”

Yuuri exhaled in a shuddering breath, tentacles around Viktor contracting in something like a hug. Yuuri’s human hands stayed where they were, one loose on Viktor’s forearm, the other pressing his flogger wand against his stomach. “What if my biggest regret was never getting to skate on the same ice as you?”

Viktor smiled, chest aching with a fierceness of wanting he hadn’t felt for figure skating in quite this way for a long time. He could still surprise an audience, had invested that energy into the programs he was designing for Yuri and Yuuri, but it wasn’t the same. Even more than that, he found he didn’t want to let Yuuri down in this. Viktor wanted a chance to have a final season, to compete against the top skaters in the world, to take Chris down a peg, to face Yuuri as a competitor and see that shine of determination in his eyes aimed squarely at him one more time without the artificial distance that had been so carefully curated over the earlier years.

“I seem to remember someone telling me he’d help me find a way to break this curse. Strange as it sounds, I believe him.” His thumb stroked over Yuuri’s cheekbone, tracing back toward his ear. “Do you think you can believe in him too?”

The tentacle holding his hand gave it a squeeze as Yuuri breathed in with a shudder, eyes watering. Viktor felt a brief spike of panic lace through him, hoping Yuuri wouldn’t start crying. He hoped in vain, tears streaming down either side of Yuuri’s face. He finally tugged his hand free, feeling tentacles shift and circle his waist, tightening around his legs as he was kept in an almost kneeling position at eye level with Yuuri.

Viktor had no confidence in his ability to stay steady when he wasn’t even supporting himself, but he still threw his arms around Yuuri’s shoulders, pulling him into a proper hug. Or as proper a hug as he could manage with tentacles curled around him. VIktor felt Yuuri tense against him, broadcasting through each tentacle wrapped around various parts of Viktor’s anatomy, and then he felt Yuuri’s arms circling his torso in return. He was still crying; Viktor could hear it in how he breathed, and after a moment felt the tell-tale warmth of tears touching the bare skin of his shoulder, but shy of pulling Yuuri in for a kiss that he didn’t know if he’d even want, it was the best he could come up with on short, tied up notice.

“I don’t know,” Yuuri said, clutching tight to Viktor, “But if you can still believe in me when I can’t, if you can stay with me for long enough to see this through, then I’ll try.”

With Yuuri crying against his shoulder, Viktor lifted his gaze skyward, holding him close. “Of course,” he said. “I’m not planning on going anywhere without you.”

Yuuri clung all the more tightly, quiet as he cried, fierce in how he held on. Viktor tucked his head against Yuuri’s, waiting it out with his heart beating too fast, wishing he knew how to really help. Also wishing those tentacles weren’t holding him quite so tightly, but that concern evaporated quite suddenly as he felt the full support of them disappear.

Yuuri cried out as Viktor’s full weight around his shoulders dragged him down, Viktor no help at all as he was as caught up in the sudden fall. The shade pulled itself free of Yuuri with a high pitched cry, fully ejected in the moment where Yuuri pushed away the last of whatever binding emotion kept them together.

Or so Viktor theorized while he lay under Yuuri, breath knocked out of him. He wheezed painfully, legs akimbo, damp sand at his back and Yuuri’s warm weight bearing down on him. Yuuri recovered first, blurting out an apology as he gained his feet and whirled around to face the shade.

Viktor wheezed an acceptance, rolling over on his side. In the moment where water touched his back, he realised the waves were coming back in, even now swirling past Yuuri’s feet and the tangible form of the squid shade looming over him.

He pushed himself up as Yuuri raised his wand, the tails of his flogger swaying in the air as he squared off with the tentacled shade. Light gathered on each strand, turning the flogger into a beacon of shimmering gold. Yuuri dodged to the side as one shadowy tentacle slashed at the air where he’d been standing, the shade looking to take hold of him once more. He spun back around, all fluid, focused movement, the beading on his costume catching the light as he leapt over a low sweeping tentacle and landed again, knees bent, eyes never leaving the squid’s flailing mass.

“I want to keep eating katsudon with Viktor, you overgrown _ikayaki_!”

He regained his feet as Yuuri released his magical attack with a diagonal swing of his wand, the flogger cutting through the air with an audible snap and sending parallel lines of light flying at the shade. Each line of light bisected the squid where it surged forward, bands of gold separating the oily black shadow in perfect rings. 

The faint scent of fried squid wafted past, Yuuri panting as he stood staring at the shade where it had fallen to the sands with his flogger held at his side. In that moment of calm, where the shade sizzled in the aftermath of Yuuri’s attack, the waves rolled in, reaching over damp sand to swirl around the remains of the shade. A ring collapsed inward with a soft sigh at the water’s touch, dissolving until only a stain of golden light lay on the sands, lingering after the water’s retreat.

“Amazing,” Viktor said, watching Yuuri’s face in profile. He hadn’t looked away from the remains of the shade were they lay, shoulders tense, expression set. The costume he wore was easier to see like this, the lines of free-hanging beads over his hips connecting at the small of his back, the doublet sewn into a v pointing down to his tailbone. Inspired by another of Viktor’s former skating outfits, but that trend had remained consistent ever since Yuuri started transforming to face the shades of Hasetsu.

He thought it suited Yuuri, in that moment. Something of a soldier of magic, facing against the darkness that could lurk inside the human heart.

Viktor came to his side, opposite of where Yuuri still held his wand. 

“Did you mean what you said?”

He glanced at Yuuri, studying his face. Yuuri was still watching the remains of the shade as each ring slowly dissolved into golden points of light on the sand.

He reached out, taking Yuuri’s hand in his. “What do you think, Yuuri?”

Yuuri curled his fingers around Viktor’s hand, holding on as he refused to look his way. “I think you meant it.”

Viktor felt a frown tugging his lips down, not satisfied with the way Yuuri continued to look away. He turned toward him, using their conjoined hands to pull Yuuri toward him. He was met by a startled blink as Yuuri shifted his weight and gaze to look Viktor in the face. A blush stained across both cheeks, either embarrassment or something else, Viktor didn’t know.

Yuuri was looking at him, and that was what was important. “What do you believe, Yuuri?”

Yuuri held Viktor’s gaze, lips parting to frame words that didn’t come. Then Yuuri squeezed Viktor’s hand, bringing them up to his breastbone and resting them there. As he spoke, the thousand points of light resting on the sands rose, swirling together to brush past them and lift upward to the skies, magic dispersing back into the world on a gentle nighttime breeze.

“I believe that you believe in me.”

Standing in the middle of a silent whirlwind of dancing light, Viktor’s heart skipped a beat, though he couldn’t say why. Just as he couldn’t say why his voice was softer when he said, “Good. Don’t forget that.” 

The pause that followed was fraught with a tension he didn’t recognise, one he didn’t want to break. When the last of the lights had swirled past, he saw Yuuri’s shoulders relax, and Viktor smiled, canting his head to the side. “That said, do you think you can start working on transforming me some kind of clothing too? I’ve been thinking about it, and as fun as it is to be constantly breaking decency laws everywhere we go, it’s kind of lost its appeal, if it ever had one.”

Yuuri’s eyes promptly dropped down to take in Viktor’s sand-sprinkled nudity, the blush on his cheeks darkening enough that Viktor could see it clearly in the moonlight. He dropped Viktor’s hand like it was burning his, bringing both hands up to chest level and making placating gestures as he spoke, flogger’s tails exaggerating the motion. “Right! Right, yes, of course, I didn’t think—I mean, that’s something I can _do_?”

Viktor shrugged, smiling in a way that was misleadingly relaxed. “Won’t know until you try.”

Yuuri paused, then shook his head, cracking a small smile as he made a point of only looking at Viktor’s face. “Which means you don’t know either.”

“More or less,” Viktor said, cheerful in his agreement. “But I have a good feeling about this one.”

“A good feeling, hm?” Yuuri’s hands dropped down, and he sighed, looking back up the beach the way they’d originally come. “At least one of us does.”

Viktor snorted, looking in the same direction. “I wasn’t the one who stopped that shade tonight, Yuuri.”

“You only talked it out of possessing me,” Yuuri said, voice grim. 

“No, Yuuri. I didn’t talk it out of anything.” Viktor shook his head, stepping closer and cupping his cheek like he had earlier. It was a gentle touch for pulling Yuuri’s attention back his way, though Yuuri flinched at the touch. “Ah, I’m sorry.” Viktor drew his hand away again, smiling apologetically, but Yuuri’s hand snapped out to take hold before it fell back to his side.

“No, I don’t mind. I just… What do you mean that you didn’t talk it out of anything?”

Viktor tipped his head to the side, curling his fingers lightly around Yuuri’s hold on his hand. “I was talking to you the whole time. Nothing I did could have affected the shade, Yuuri. The only one responding to what I said was you.”

Silence fell between them, Yuuri studying Viktor’s face and opening his mouth, only to close it again. He smiled after a few seconds, a small, wry expression that failed to convince Viktor that his mood had shifted all that much. “Sorry for wrapping you up like that.”

Viktor wiggled his hand in Yuuri’s, waiting for Yuuri to relax his hold. Before Yuuri could pull his hand away with an apology, Viktor interlaced their fingers, bringing their palms together. “It’s okay. I know what it’s like to want to hold onto something.” With a squeeze of Yuuri’s hand, he went on. “Or someone.” 

_Someone like you_. Only he shouldn’t be thinking like that; and so he smiled, not quite able to bring himself to wink and turn it into a joke. He could use words to redirect, especially as Yuuri stared at him and seemed to be blinking a little too rapidly. 

Shit, was he going to cry?

“If you’re looking to make it up to me, I have a few ideas!”

Yuuri was still blinking rapidly, but he also swallowed and offered a weak half-laugh, squeezing Viktor’s hand in turn. “Anything.”

Viktor’s brain blanked as the waves that’d been coming back in lapped over his bare feet. “You can go skinny dipping with me!” he blurted out, having intended to say anything else.

Yuuri stared at him before he burst out laughing. “You can’t be serious! Right? You’re not serious?”

He hadn’t been, but with a quirk of an eyebrow, he could act like he had been. “Not up to the challenge?”

“This is a public beach, Viktor! What if someone sees me?”

“Then we’re in career trouble, so better act fast before anyone decides to come check out the light show.” Viktor smiled, but figured that was a good enough point—Yuuri didn’t need a police record of any sort, even if people were unlikely to be patroling or reporting anything on this section of relatively secluded shoreline.

He hadn’t counted on Yuuri setting his chin and facing him head on to say, “You’re on.” There was something to be said for Yuuri’s tendency to embrace the nature of any challenge he decided to take on without much hesitation.

That he managed to release his transformation and was already pulling his shoes off once he let go of Viktor’s hand while Viktor stood there somewhat dumbstruck had more to do with Viktor also privately wonder if he should wait for Yuuri to undress, or if he should go for broke into the ocean water and see when Yuuri caught up.

Having an extra few moments to adjust to the chill of the water won out. With a grin, Viktor ran toward the waves, Yuuri only half a minute behind. Water splashing his back had him yelping, turning around to see Yuuri grin and wade to the side, trying and failing to dodge the return splash Viktor sent his way. 

It was stupid, and juvenile, and definitely not Viktor’s best plan, but at the same time, gritting his teeth at the shock of the water as he waded hip deep and dove beneath the surface, he couldn’t remember when he was last inclined to simply laugh for laughter’s sake. Even if he got a faceful of water and swallowed down salt before succeeding in tackling Yuuri into the water in retaliation, both of them coming up spluttering and drenched.

He felt the curse descend as suddenly as always, Viktor going from standing in the navel deep waters to paddling desperately with all four legs, riding the swell of waves heading in toward the shore. Yuuri dove under and caught up with him, his arms coming up under Viktor’s belly and the back of his thighs. 

“I’ve got you,” he said, tucking Viktor against his chest as he waded out of the waters, the waves breaking around him.

Viktor rested his head against Yuuri’s chest, hearing the rapid beat of his heart. “Yeah,” he said, giving a wet wag of his soaked tail. “You do.” _If only you knew how much._

* * *

Hiroko was bemused at the look that Yuuri shared with his coach the next evening when they came in for dinner, discussing the details of a new program Viktor had in mind for Yuuri’s short. 

The _ikayaki_ was beautifully presented, neatly sliced and garnished on its serving plate. For whatever obscure reason that two young men found it amusing, she simply appreciated the relaxed line of her youngest’s shoulders as he grinned and laughed freely, leaning against Viktor’s side and not noticing the way Viktor smiled back at him, his public face starting to slide into an expression of profound affection.


	8. can't help falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor changes Yuuri's short program out of the blue; alone with his thoughts, Viktor reflects on his fears and realisations leading up to the Regionals Competition.

“We’re changing your short program.”

Yuuri paused in his stretching to fix Viktor with a stare. He had no idea what his coach was going on about. He liked his short from last year, and really, he knew he could go further with it. Viktor had been working on Yuri Plisetsky’s short program, not his.

“Okay… when did we decide this?”

Viktor snorted, tapping both paws hard against the bench he sat on. “Yuuri. Remember how I’ve been working on Yura’s short program?”

“The one you sent off last week?”

“Yes. Yakov’s said it will do as long as Yura pays attention to his footwork and finds a way to connect with the emotion behind it all.” Viktor sat back, waving one paw. “That’s not the point.”

“Then the point is…?”

“There’s an alternate arrangement of the music. I’ve had a few ideas about what a skate could look like, but nothing ever came together. Until I met you.” Viktor tucked both paws against his chest, canting his head to the side. “Are you willing to give it a try?”

Yuuri switched legs, resuming his stretches. He was going to say yes, because if nothing else, his intrigue at the idea of Viktor crafting a whole short program for him was more than enough reason to agree. Taking on the challenge of learning a whole new set of programs was exciting in a way that didn’t leave him feeling out of his depth like most things with magic still did. Especially after the squid incident.

“Okay.”

“That’s a yes?”

Yuuri sat up, meeting Viktor’s gaze. “Show me what you have in mind. I’ll skate it.”

Viktor’s mouth opened, tongue lolling out in a canine smile. “That’s exactly what I was hoping you’d say.”

* * *

Half an hour later Yuuri stared at the ice with his hands pressed over his mouth, eyes wide. He knew Viktor was an incredible skater; had known as much the majority of his life. Viktor was the skater Yuuri chased after, the shooting star whose tail Yuuri hoped to catch before they both passed through the skies of competition toward the next horizon of their lives. Seeing a new program designed by Viktor for Yuuri had never been in his wildest dreams. Couldn’t have been, because those had always been about introducing himself with a smile and a medal around his neck, shaking hands and finally feeling like he’d earned his space next to Viktor, no matter how brief a moment in time.

Now he stood there with a racing heart because he couldn’t fathom how in the world Viktor believed that of all people, _Yuuri_ could pull off skating a program with that much sheer sexual appeal. Viktor? Of course. Two years sidelined for injury and he _still_ rated as the most attractive skater currently left on roster in the sport. Yuuri… didn’t actually know who else was on that list, but he was certain his name wasn’t.

Viktor was the sexy, eligible bachelor. Yuuri was the recent college graduate with a fantastically poor last season and no head for fashion sense.

Yet he was supposed to skate a story of seduction?

“So what do you think?” Viktor rested his elbows against the boards, fingertips brushing against the teal bow of the third hair tie he wore like a bracelet.

“I need a home pregnancy test.”

Viktor blinked, lifting his eyebrows. “What?”

Yuuri waved his hands in front of his face rapidly, shaking his head while his cheeks flamed. “Nothing! Just, that was sexy! So sexy!” He lowered his hands, fingers curling into fists. “You really think I can skate something like that?”

Viktor eyed him for a second before he leaned forward, index finger pressing against Yuuri’s lips. “I know you can,” he said, tilting his head forward so that he looked at Yuuri through his lashes. “When you find a way to connect with your _eros_ , no one will want to look away.”

Yuuri blushed, staring open mouthed after Viktor as he skated toward the door further down the boards. He swallowed, licking his lips and wondering how the hell he was going to pull this off. He’d seen the narrative in his head as Viktor skated, the playboy coming into town and setting his sights on seducing the most beautiful woman there. Succeeding, then as was his nature, moving on from her and the town for his next target, his next pleasure, unmindful of what hurt he’s caused and left behind.

Yuuri stepped onto the ice, raising a hand absently to Takeshi when he walked through the sliding doors up by the front entrance. All the Nishigori’s were used to the disappearing act Yuuri’s coach pulled, along with the presence of his toy poodle inside the building. Seeing Yuuri alone on the ice wouldn’t merit much concern, and so he dismissed Takeshi from his mind as he started feeling out the choreography, marking jumps instead of following through on the movement in the rink’s silence.

He finished going through the choreography, sure he’d missed something considering he’d only seen it skated through the once, when applause interrupted his thoughts. He looked up, startled, arms coming uncrossed and falling to his sides. A silver blob was up by the boards where Viktor’s dog-friendly set-up was, and a larger, closer blob of darks and tans that could only be Takeshi leaned against the boards.

“Very nice! Not what I usually see you up to out here. Have you started working through your free skate?”

Yuuri offered a small smile, shaking his head to negate the _very nice_ while answering his question simultaneously. “Viktor decided to choreograph a new short program too. We’re still deciding the music for my free skate.”

He came to a stop by the boards, feeling a bit awkward talking about Viktor like he wasn’t present. Considering he knew Viktor was right there with him, it had led to several strange conversations with Yuuko and Takeshi, trying to dance around a point or redirect when he came too close to saying too much.

Takeshi whistled, shaking his head in turn. “Just like that? He’s something else. You’re going to switch out for this one?”

“Yeah.” He knew he was going to do it; he _wanted_ to take it and make it his own. It was a gift from Viktor he knew how to accept; doing so was repaying the belief that Viktor carried in his upcoming competitions.

It was also easier to give back on than anything with magic. His promises to help Viktor break his curse aside, Yuuri didn’t feel any closer to being able to achieve that than he did when he first accepted magic was part of his life.

“Two new programs is my usual for a season, so it doesn’t feel like it’s unreasonable. Actually, it’s normally three with an exhibition skate.”

Takeshi nodded. “So you’re working on that, too?”

“Haven’t thought about it yet, if I’m honest.” Yuuri rubbed the back of his neck, breathing out in a soft huff of self-deprecating laughter. “Been enough on my mind as it is.”

He was close enough he could pick up on the smirking sort of smile Takeshi sent his way. “You could always do _Stammi vicino_ , couldn’t you?”

Yuuri froze, waving his hands as he protested a moment after. “Only if I was downgrading the jumps! I don’t have half those quads yet for competition! I barely have the salchow! My toe loop’s the only thing I manage consistently…”

“Might as well get the Russian Hero to help you figure out at least one of those other quads while he’s coaching, right?” Takeshi laughed as Yuuri made a high pitched noise of protest, covering his face with his hands and pointedly not looking toward Viktor.

“We haven’t even talked about quads past the salchow!”

“Will you?”

Yuuri dropped his hand away from his face. “Yes,” he said. “At least so he can demonstrate for me. It’s different getting to watch everything in person.”

Takeshi hummed, glancing around the rink. “It is, isn’t it.” When his eyes landed on Yuuri again, he smiled, shoulders hunching up as he leaned forward in a conspiratorial stage whisper. “So, want to tell me more about this new short program of yours?”

He welcomed the distraction from what they’d been talking about, nodding his head toward the speaker setup close to where Viktor sat as a dog. “I think Viktor’s phone is still attached? If you hit play, I’ll see how much of it I remember. It’s not going to be good,” he said, striking out for the center of the rink.

“Not yet,” Takeshi said, calling out as he walked toward Viktor and the speakers. “But that’s what practice is for!”

He had a point. Yuuri smiled to himself, shaking his head and sending a silent apology Viktor’s way before the music started and Yuuri tried to follow along with the recent memory of Viktor skating his way through Yuuri’s head.

By the end he was breathing hard, having gone so far as to hit some of the jumps with the triples they called for, even managing the quad toe but stepping out on the landing. At least he knew his triple axel was flawless. It didn’t leave him feeling better, but it did give him a sense that he _could_ manage to get the program technically figured out. Connecting to the emotion? 

He’d figure that out sooner or later. He wasn’t going to fail over something like that.

* * *

Viktor watched Yuuri tackle his new short program with the same drive for perfectionism that Viktor found in himself. It was exciting in a whole different way than perfecting Yuuri’s short from the season before; Viktor found himself attempting to explain while firmly stuck as a dog, hopping in circles to mime jumps, weaving and spinning and posing in ways that looked vaguely like what Yuuri did on ice.

His frustration over his state of existence hit a new peak, one he’d thought he’d come to peace with over a year ago. He sorted through it best as he could, reviewing the videos they took of Yuuri’s practice sessions and running through them with Yuuri in the evenings after dinner. Yuuri would go to soak on Viktor’s recommendation and support, and then Viktor would be left to his own resources in the meantime.

Lately, he took to laps around the garden, simply seeking to release pent up energy. If he ran hard enough, his mind would calm for a while, and he’d collapse on his belly on the wooden slats of the deck, feeling the breeze blowing off the ocean ruffling his fur. Times like those he missed Makkachin the most, her steady presence at his side as a friend and familiar an ache in his heart. Where was she? What had happened to her after he was cursed?

He’d asked that question for the last two years, only knowing that he’d find her again once the curse was broken. A mage’s familiar could be killed, certainly, but he’d feel that loss much more keenly than the ache of their separation. She was alive, wherever she was.

He sighed, turning his mind toward things he could affect instead of those beyond his ability to control. He and Yuuri honed Yuuri’s grasp of magic against the shades around Hasetsu. Yuuri mastered transforming Viktor into an outfit alongside his own transformation; odd as it was, Viktor’s costume never changed, a rendition of his last free skate costume for _Stammi vicino_. Yuuri’s changed every time, always one of Viktor’s costumes from his past seasons. He remembered the posters of himself that had been in Yuuri’s room when he arrived, but he didn’t realise until later just how pervasive an influence he was in Yuuri’s life.

Perhaps it was the most appropriate truth in the world that he’d also been the one to come into Yuuri’s life for his magic, too, no matter how unorthodox. Or perhaps because it was Viktor, Yuuri’s costumes were influenced to reflect his mentor. There was no one he knew to ask, and no real way to know.

He chose to believe it was a semi-conscious choice on Yuuri’s part. If that also inflated his ego when he felt very small in the scheme of things, he wisely chose not to mention the possibility to Yuuri.

Viktor flopped onto his side after a night’s run, listening to the sounds of the _onsen_ operating around him. Clicks and laughter and voices from the banquet hall; oil hissing in the kitchens; a greeting exchanged as the front doors slid open then slid shut again. The rustling of wind through the trees and bushes, and the snap of the flagpole out in the front courtyard. He could even hear a gull cry out as it flew past, hidden from view by the eaves of the roof overhead.

He wouldn’t accept this as his life forevermore. He told Yuuri he believed in Yuuri’s words, and he did, wholeheartedly. He just wished some days that he could see when that promise would come to fruition, and how. 

Yuuri found him like that, lifting his tail for a tired thump against the wood when Yuuri crouched down to join him.

“Mari told me you were running around the garden.”

Viktor thumped his tail again. “Head clearing exercise.”

“Ah,” Yuuri said, sitting down and sliding his feet forward, knees bent. “An exercise in clearing your head, or clearing your head with exercise?”

Viktor moved his head enough to catch proper sight of Yuuri in his peripheral. “Either or. I’m working through timing needs for regionals. They won’t be as intense as anything you get seeded into for the Grand Prix series, but I’m going to have to cut down how much time I take to get ready.”

“Mm.” Yuuri made a noise of acknowledgement, listening and nodding as Viktor spoke. “You were tired after that evening meeting my parents.”

“I was.”

“Are you going to be okay handling back to back days like that?”

He wanted to feel vaguely offended, but he heard the concern in Yuuri’s voice. He sat up, pulling his elbow underneath him. He was still laying down, but at least he was up and looking at Yuuri instead of flopped on his side. “Yes, I will. Yuuri… do you remember much of what happened during your last Nationals?”

Yuuri shifted, pulling his knees back toward his torso and wrapping his arms around then. “Mm. No, not really. Just seeing the shadows—the shades—around the rink. It was so overwhelming before all the technical issues started messing with the schedule.”

“Yeah, I imagine it was. How do you feel about handling shades by now?”

Yuuri snorted, a softer sound than it might have been. “Ridiculous sometimes, but I can handle them. Even if they get under my skin.”

Viktor squirmed closer, shoving his head against Yuuri. A hand dropped down to tentatively stroke over his fur. Viktor did nothing to deter the motion. He was touch starved enough as it was; rejecting waking contact from Yuuri would have been too much. “I’m glad. I don’t think it’s going to be a problem, but if anything does come up at the larger competitions, now you know you can handle it.”

“Right. If they come at me without tentacles.”

“I don’t know, you grilled that last one with tentacles so well I was left craving _ikayaki_.”

Yuuri laughed, a pleasant sound to Viktor’s ears. It had his legs lowering, and Viktor shamelessly dropped his head onto Yuuri’s thigh, closing his eyes. He liked the sound of Yuuri’s laughter. “You’re sure I’m a magical girl and not a magical chef?”

“As far as labeling styles of magic, yes, I’m pretty sure. Mosts mages working with food end up falling along the lines of witchcraft. Are you sure your parents aren’t kitchen witches?”

Yuuri’s fingers continued to stroke over Viktor’s poll, a soothing sensation. He laughed, shaking his head. “No, I think I’d know. You don’t need magic to be good in the kitchen.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“Then I guess I’ll have to trust you on that.” Viktor pulled a canine grin, his panting quiet in the heavy night air.

“Generous of you,” Yuuri said, sounding a touch dry. He steady pets were lulling Viktor close to napping just as he was. “Considering that’s what I decided to do with you a long time ago.”

“Mm. A full… how many months?”

Viktor felt a tap on his nose, opening one eye to regard Yuuri’s hand. 

“By the time regionals comes around, five.”

Viktor closed his eye again. “And all the months that come thereafter.”

Yuuri’s hand came to a rest on Viktor’s head, a comfortable weight. It was the stillness that had Viktor opening his eyes, not the silence they lapsed into. He and Yuuri shared enough companionable silences for him to recognise one fraught with underlying tension.

“Yuuri?”

“You shouldn’t say things like that so easily.”

Viktor’s ears quirked forward, hearing a tremor in Yuuri’s voice. He pushed up against his hand, lifting his head off its comfortable spot on Yuuri’s thigh. “Like what?”

“Things that sound like you’re going to be stuck like this forever.”

Viktor closed his mouth, confused. He struggled to gain his feet, nudging at Yuuri’s stomach. “Stuck like what? A dog? Or here with you?”

“As a dog. You won’t be stuck here once you’re back to normal.”

He didn’t like the sound of that at all. Viktor shoved himself into Yuuri’s lap, jumping to place his paws on Yuuri’s shoulder and fix him with a sideways look. “I’m not stuck anywhere I don’t want to be, Yuuri Katsuki. I’m not stuck at all!” Unless being stuck on Yuuri counted, but that was a tangle of emotions he didn’t have a way of handling in any sensible format.

Yuuri’s hands pressed against his sides, holding him in place out of surprise more than anything else. “You’re going to have to leave here if you’ll be competing again. You’ve only ever trained under Yakov and his team, there’s nothing here for your career.”

It was logical, but faulty in one sense. “Of course I’ll have to go back to Yakov, but what I don’t understand is why you think I’d be doing that without _you_.”

Yuuri frowned, Viktor catching sight of his brow furrowing with the one eye he had focused on Yuuri’s face. “Because we’d be competition? In theory, if not in truth.”

“Oh, we’d be competition, all right!” Viktor nosed at the side of Yuuri’s face, then purposefully started an enthusiastic licking at his jaw and ear. “Last I checked, I was still your coach! Planning on firing me so soon, Yuuri?”

Yuuri started pushing him away, a giggle wrenched from his throat. Viktor perked his ears forward, canine grin slipping back in place as he realised what that meant. 

Yuuri was ticklish. 

Wagging his tail, he went on the attack, licking relentlessly at Yuuri’s neck, chin, jaw, ear, as ridiculous and as friendly as Makkachin used to be with Viktor. There was no finesse when Yuuri rolled onto his back taking Viktor with him, laughing and trying to shove him off even as Viktor determinedly squirmed back in again. He knew if Yuuri really wanted him gone, he would be; Yuuri was jerking away in fits of laughter, but he wasn’t lashing out.

“Stop! Stop! Have mercy, Viktor, please!”

“No mercy! Are you firing me as soon as I’m back on two feet full-time?”

Yuuri finally managed to get a hold on Viktor, lifting him while attempting to keep his laughter under control. “I didn’t say I was! I don’t want to end our contract, but I couldn’t live with myself if I held you back!”

Viktor’s paws were tucked up under his chest, hind legs held out stiff like he was flying as Yuuri continued to hold him in the air. He canted his head to the side, trusting Yuuri would keep him steady. “Who said anything about being held back?”

Yuuri bit down on his lips, his glasses knocked askew in their roughhousing. “You’d have to leave.”

Viktor nodded once, slow and deliberate. “I would have to leave Hasetsu,” he said, knowing that was irrefutably true if he ever wanted to get back into competition. “What I don’t understand is why you seem to believe I wouldn’t want you coming with me.”

Yuuri stared up at him, expression difficult to read. “You make it sound like you’d keep coaching me in Russia.”

Viktor wagged his tail, stretching his neck to bring his face closer to Yuuri’s again. “Was there ever any doubt?”

Yuuri’s expression showed there was, and Viktor knew it made sense from any logical standpoint. People couldn’t compete and coach at the same level or same intensity as they’d both be training. Coaching classes, that was something else, but a full time coaching arrangement while going through training under another coach?

Viktor never really had learned how to do things in half measures.

“Can we talk about this later?” Yuuri’s arms trembled, traveling through Viktor’s frame.

“Of course.” He sounded subdued to his own ears, and so he lifted his head, tongue lolling out as he flashed another canine grin. “We still have a Grand Prix Final to win first!”

Yuuri lowered him back to his chest, Viktor stepping off and letting Yuuri up with minimal fanfare. “You say that like it’s easy.”

He snorted as he started heading toward the sliding door to the interior of the private section of the onsen. “It’s not easy, but you want that gold, and I know you can win it. In the meantime, let’s focus on what’s for dinner! Got extra protein to share with me?”

Yuuri rubbed at his face and grimaced, wiping mostly dried dog slobber off. “Plenty of chicken and fish.”

“What about _ikayaki_?”

Viktor barreled inside ahead of Yuuri, restraining his laughter as he heard him come running after, still calling out his protesting, “ _Viktor!_ ”

* * *

They were busy training on and off ice, fine-tuning Yuuri’s programs in preparation for regionals, and continuing to clean up the shades around Hasetsu. Yuuri’s confidence in his ability to handle his magic grew, as did his ability to pull it back in to himself, masking and containing his natural overflow. 

They stockpiled hair ties with Yuuri’s magic stored within them, Viktor calculating what was safe for Yuuri to seal magic into without cutting into his energy reserves on a day to day basis. All in all it was a balancing act that left both of them tired and determined, Viktor spending more and more time talking at Yuuri through his phone with the aide of Yuuri’s inventive ventriloquism charm. Viktor had a good sense of what Yuuri’s magic would look like after he completed his stint as a magical girl familiar; it made sense to think of Yuuri as having an aptitude for charms, given his ability with storing magic in the hair ties and artifacts Viktor had brought along with him.

They slept well and deeply at night, for the most part. On the nights where Yuuri didn’t, Viktor did what he could to help.

He didn’t know what it was that woke him at first one of those restless nights, though he had a guess as soon as he realised he was human again. Yuuri’s nightmares were less frequent than they had been, but pervasive enough Viktor would still wake in the night to find himself facing the choice of offering comfort to a sleeping man, or of simply enduring the soft sounds of distress and the choked cries and thrashing without speaking.

He had a pattern by now, tucking himself close to Yuuri and speaking in quiet, babbling Russian. He was rarely awake enough to have a coherent dialogue, but he’d found the sound of his voice and the touch of his hand stroking Yuuri’s back, his arm, his hair, whatever was available, offered some relief. He scooted closer, adjusting a pillow under his head and reaching out to touch Yuuri’s clothed shoulder.

Yuuri burrowed further into his pillow, another sound of distress paired with a shifting of his leg. He wasn’t flailing as much as he did in the second worst kind of dreams, just enough to be restless.

It took Viktor a few moments of gentle reassuring rubs of Yuuri’s bicep to realise there was a regularity to his movements and noises that was different than usual. His hand went still as he tried to piece together why; he pulled his hand away entirely as the knowledge filtered through.

Yuuri wasn’t having a nightmare. Those weren’t sounds of distress. They were noises of _pleasure._

Viktor bit down on his lower lip, feeling like an intruder. He was glad Yuuri wasn’t suffering from nightmares, but there was no help for these kinds of dreams that Viktor could offer in good conscience other than the privacy for Yuuri to dream on his own.

Viktor moved away, sliding out of bed, leaving his blanket behind. He pulled on the clothes Yuuri left set to the side of his desk for him, the _jinbei_ the onsen provided for all its guests. Which was his role, or one of them. He wouldn’t forget that, even if in a small act of rebellion for the sheer concept of wasting time tying so many pieces in place, Viktor forewent the inside tie. 

He slipped out of the room and padded down the hall, knowing where to step to leave his passage as quiet as could be. The small family kitchen was abandoned at night, lit by a soft glow from the nightlight plugged in over the counter. He pulled the electric kettle out, checking the water level before topping it off. 

He watched Mari go through this routine in the early mornings before Yuuri was awake and they ran to Ice Castle so many times that he knew it by heart; where the tea was kept, which tea was allowed, which was special. Where the steepers were stored, and where he could find the mugs with their cheerful designs that almost prompted him to smile.

The kettle boiled to temperature, Viktor measuring out his tea and settling it into his chosen mug. Flowers danced around the outside of his mug, wearing cheerful, cute faces. 

“Enough water for a second mug?”

He stiffened, the company unexpected, though not unwelcome. “For a third, if we’re careful.” He smiled, turning to face Mari where she stood at the threshold of the kitchen, hair down loose around her face. Her expression was hard to read in the low light, but her posture was relaxed.

“Two will do.” Her smile was smaller, more wry, but it softened her voice.

Viktor moved to pull down another mug, hesitating with the tea. “Anything in particular?” He held up the small container kept in the cupboard; nothing special, but nice, when one wanted the warmth and the companionship against intrusive thoughts.

She waved a hand, a lazy movement that was permission and dismissal at once. “Whatever you’re having is fine.” She headed for the fridge, pulling open the freezer. “It’s about time to start defrosting more.”

Viktor made a thoughtful noise as he pulled out another steeper, for the second time in as many minutes setting up tea for the water to come.

The kettle ceased its bubbling, quieting into repose, its duty complete. He moved to pick it up, pouring water into both their mugs. He saw Mari step forward to do the same, or to object, maybe, but she held her silence, simply crossing her arms and leaning against the counter as he finished with his task.

He waited for her to speak and she didn’t, not so much observing him as taking in the muted quality of the night. Sliding a mug toward her, Viktor offered a half-smile. She returned it with a quiet thank you, then lapsed back into silence as she picked up her mug and headed for the small table in the attached room.

The low table was surrounded by cushions, ones he’d lounged on more than once in dog form. They didn’t speak until they were both seated.

“Taking Vitya out?”

He smiled, amused at the jest she didn’t attend. “No,” he said, studying the room in the dark. Everything looked subtly different, shadows recasting familiar shapes into the unknown. He regretted his poorer vision as a human in times like these. His canine eyes could pick out details in the darkness that his human eyes struggled to find. “Best to let sleeping dogs lie.”

She paused, taking a moment to turn over that phrase, then snorted. “Sounds like my brother.”

Viktor saw no need to correct her. He eyed his steeper, keeping track of the time passing before he’d need to pull it out.

“Oh!”

“Oh?”

He breathed out in a soft huff of laughter. “I didn’t bring anything for the leaves,” he said, gesturing to their mugs. 

Her sound of recognition was followed by a grunt of exertion as she stood, waving off Viktor’s half-formed protest. “Boys,” she said as she walked away, the hint of a deeper amusement lingering in her wake.

He knew it was dangerous, how this ate up his limited time and chanced exposure. It was still tempting, and temptation kept him seated as Mari brought back a small plate and set it down on the table between them.

“Thank you.”

She waved off his gratitude as she settled down. Mari lifted her steeper from the mug, tapping it against the side and waiting as tea dripped down from the silver sphere. “You keep a strange schedule,” she said, watching the steeper. “Seems like it’s working out.”

What to say to that? Viktor likewise pulled his steeper out of his mug, simply holding it in place over the surface of his tea. “It’s unusual, I admit.”

Mari’s small sound of amusement had him half-smiling in response. “Like tea after midnight.”

“Something like that.” He set his steeper aside, picking up his mug and nodding his head toward her. “Life has a way of refusing to go as planned.”

“It does.” She held her mug between her hands, letting the quiet of the night settle around their shoulders. Viktor felt time slipping away from him, a creeping sort of anxiety he shrugged off. He knew his limits, just as he knew where Yuuri rested, rooms away. His magic was a warmth that Viktor felt from greater distances than the one currently between them.

He stood, keeping his mug steady. “I should attempt to make myself useful, even if I can’t sleep yet. Thank you for keeping me company, Mari.”

She lifted her gaze to study his face in the dark. “Anytime.”

He was almost to the kitchen when she spoke again, her voice carrying through the silence of the room. “We don’t have a reason to say it out loud often, but my family has always supported Yuuri in what he does. When he believes in it, we believe, too.” 

Viktor turned his face to the side, listening. He couldn’t see her like this. It didn’t feel like he needed to see, only to hear.

“My brother believes in you, Viktor. I thought it was worth saying that we believe in you too.”

Putting a name to the emotion curling around his chest was difficult. He’d been a world champion for three years running. He’d won gold at the Olympics. Belief in his abilities as a skater was nothing new.

Belief in him as the person Yuuri wanted him to be, as Viktor Nikiforov, as the untried coach he was, and an untried mentor on top of that, was new. Touching, too, because it wasn’t necessary. All they needed to do was believe in Yuuri.

“I believe in him too.” A statement of fact, laced with the warmth of his affection and the confidence in his belief. 

Mari laughed, a low, rolling sort of chuckle that died soon after it was born. “We know,” she said, speaking for a family and for herself. “Goodnight, Viktor.”

He held his tea close, continuing forward into the kitchen. “Goodnight, Mari.” He managed to make his way back to Yuuri’s room without incident, even sitting down at his desk and getting halfway through his tea before the magic twisted his form back into that of a dog. 

With a sad few licks into the cup, he gave in at last, hopping to the floor. Yuuri breathed regularly, and aside from the slight scent of salt mingled in with sweat, he smelled like his usual self. The shampoo he used mixed well with his natural scent; something Viktor didn’t point out, though he supposed he might one of these days.

Leaping up on Yuuri’s bed, Viktor curled up at his side, breathing in long and slow. He believed in Yuuri, as he’d told Mari. Yet he found more and more often that belief wasn’t the only emotion he had where Yuuri was concerned. Even now Viktor felt a sweet ache in his chest, a low desire in his head that couldn’t be resolved. 

He liked Yuuri, genuinely and without inhibition. He respected how he faced the world, tackling new challenges even when they scared the hell out of him. He found Yuuri’s skating compelling, but it wasn’t just that; Yuuri himself was compelling, from the way he could eat vegetables like they’d personally offended him to his absent minded mumbling about craving food in literally every situation they’d faced.

His attraction to Yuuri was acknowledged, but that was all it could be. Viktor shared his bed in the most puritan sense he ever had, and he knew if his situation were different, if he weren’t cursed, then maybe…

Maybe what? Maybe he never would have ended up entangled in Yuuri’s life. _What if_ solved nothing. He had to face his reality, and facing that reality meant acknowledging he was a dog, albeit a cursed one.

Viktor faced the increasingly irrational fear that he would spend the rest of his life as a ten pound dog while acknowledging, for the first time, he had fallen in love.

Life sure had a sense of humour. 


	9. hold onto that feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri survives regionals, then heads off to the Cup of China.

Before Yuuri knew it they were at regionals, where Yuuri aimed to prove Viktor wasn’t wasting his time coaching a dime a dozen skater from Japan, and as an extension proving he was a serious contender for gold. As badly as he’d done after his loss at the Grand Prix Final last year, he’d still been seeded into two of the series competitions: the Cup of China, followed by Rostelecom. 

To get there with any confidence in his ability to showcase the skater Viktor saw in him, and to give due credit to Viktor’s skills as a coach, he had to place well _here_.

Viktor gave him the time he needed to be alone, drowning out the sounds of everything inside and outside of his head, listening to classical and keeping himself limber. When he was about to hit the ice for his short, he felt almost steady on his feet. 

It was the first time he skated his new short program for the public, taking all he’d learned in the months since they’d thrown out his original short and pouring it into what he skated now. _Eros_ had been both easy and difficult; he knew what it was, logically, had a sense of his own wants and desires, but finding a way to bring that out of himself and conveying the story the music crafted wasn’t easy. Not until he’d tweaked it into a story he felt he could better embody, switching from the role of playboy to that of the most desirable woman in town: seducing the playboy and casting him off before he would inevitably have done the same.

Minako was a blessing with her tolerance for wild late night requests, dragging herself out of her apartment and to her studio with Yuuri the night where inspiration had first struck. He’d worked with her into the wee hours, wanting to perfect his changes and show Viktor first thing in the morning. He’d been sleep deprived and impatient when he’d picked up Viktor and biked them both over to Ice Castle, but after he’d finished his stretches and laced on his boots, the ice smooth and untouched after Takeshi’s run with the resurfacer, he’d found his second wind. 

Heart hammering in his chest, he stepped on the ice, waited for Viktor to queue the music with his careful paws. His changes were all in the way he moved, softened and beautiful in their seduction, more classically feminine ballet over the masculine style he’d been performing most his life.

His nerves disappeared for the duration of the skate, the choreography familiar and drilled into him after a night of ceaseless off-ice practice and adaptation. He was _eros_ , physical love, drowning in pleasure after pleasure that he sought out and demanded, pulling the playboy close and then casting him away. Not victorious, per say, and not sated, but all of it played by his rules.

He realised how effective his performance was even on himself when he heard the clapping. Startled, he relaxed out of his final pose and looked toward the sound, seeing no silver blur of fur, but instead a blur of silver hair and black and pale skin. “Wow,” Viktor said, zipping up Yuuri’s coat. There hadn’t been anything else for him to pull on without taking his eyes off the rink. “Seems like you really found your _eros_ , didn’t you?”

His elation when Viktor confirmed he was ready for the next stage kept Viktor human for another fifteen minutes past what he should have been, and so that was how Viktor ended up with the time to pull on sweats, socks, and his boots to step on ice and take apart each of Yuuri’s elements to point out what, specifically, he wanted to see him do. 

It led to the conversation that ended with a phone call to Yuri Plisetsky, who was less than pleased to go rifling through Viktor’s past costumes in order to find the one that Yuuri named as being his; demanding due payment in being able to use of of Viktor’s costumes for his own short program.

Yakov called to confirm the next morning, and Viktor, tail wagging and wearing a canine grin, agreed it was entirely Yakov’s choice to help ensure Yuri picked out something that matched _Agape_. Yakov shouted for a while, then sighed and told Viktor his requested costume should be there in the next week. He hoped Viktor had a usable tailor or seamstress in Japan.

Months from that point, and he was in front of a live audience beyond the Nishigoris and Viktor. He was skating in front of a panel of judges who had reason to be critiquing his every movement, in front of press that continued to wish him well after his performance at Nationals the year before.

“You know you can seduce me with your charms,” Viktor said by his ear, arms wrapped around Yuuri’s chest when he’d pulled him close during a hydration break for his warm up. “Now show the judges what your _eros_ feels like.”

He wasn’t sure if he had or hadn’t; he wasn’t sure if the audience was receptive enough, or if they were simply polite. It wasn’t until he heard the cheers and applause after he relaxed from his final pose that he really _knew_.

Katsuki Yuuri could still bring this kind of response from an audience. No, not still: could _finally_ pull this kind of response from an audience.

He beamed. Viktor politely clapped as Yuuri stepped past the boards, giving him a very direct assessment of everything he’d done right, and everything he’d done wrong. Even Viktor’s lack of enthusiasm right down to Yuuri’s score (which was a personal best, and he acknowledged that by saying _I know you can do even better_ ) wasn’t enough to curb his enthusiasm.

It wasn’t easy adapting to Viktor being present for hours at a time as his true self, having him draw attention and engaging without worrying about finding a moment to murmur to him or a quiet corner to sneak more than a few words in. Alongside his own anxiety came the slow realisation that perhaps Yuuri wasn’t all as prepared for _Viktor_ as he thought he was, especially when he was left confused in the wake of Viktor’s disappointed statement regarding Yuuri and his ability to motivate others.

Recovering from the gut punch to his own motivation came first. He didn’t understand what Viktor was talking about, or how in the world Yuuri was supposed to address it. He wasn’t known for being relaxed and casual at competitions, tried to ignore the eyes on him just as he tried not to fix his stare on anyone else. They were all here to compete, to push and show their personal bests, and to come out ahead in the hopes of finding their way forward with the strength of their own performances.

What did any of that mean, then, when it came to motivating others? Was that his responsibility? Was it anything he knew how to do? 

He didn’t know, resented on some level the implication that he should. Still, Viktor didn’t say things for the sake of being rude. Yuuri considered that before the free skates, evaluated the mess of thoughts in his head as he turned to walk away and recenter himself as Minami took the ice.

He made himself turn around. He saw the effect after he’d called out to Minami, how much it meant to him that Yuuri said anything at all, and it made his heart feel lighter even when he still left, heading out to stretch.

Wishing someone _good luck_ didn’t take him out of his competitive mindset. He’d forgotten about that at some point. When was that? 

His further efforts were stilted after that, a vigorous pat to Minami’s back turning into a full-on slap when passing by him at the boards, but aside from surprising the younger skater, he seemed okay. Minami was out of Yuuri’s mind almost immediately, his focus on his free skate total. Even Viktor’s application of lip balm to Yuuri’s slightly chapped lips and the half hugs they exchanged before he pulled off his guards and took to the ice were registered but out of focus, much like his vision without his glasses. 

Viktor told him to take it easy, to downgrade his jumps, to do all sorts of sensible things that Yuuri had no intention of doing. He wasn’t skating in order to play it safe; it was part of his insistence in hitting the streets to find the shades of his hometown, too. Yuuri gained nothing except through exhaustive effort and training. 

He didn’t compete because he knew how to put less than his most ambitious self on the ice. It was what made his screw-ups so frustrating, especially when he _knew_ he was better than what his performance showed, and it was why he wouldn’t hold back now.

Yuuri left no room for doubt in his mind. He hit every element at its most difficult, not skating clean, but managing all his jumps. Managing to near break his nose on the boards too when he came badly out of a landing, but it was worth it when he stood there as the music went quiet, hand outstretched toward Viktor, and he knew.

The song, music reworked by its original composer into more than a summary of Yuuri’s competitive career, the emotion behind it, everything he felt in his present. With the applause of the crowd, the feeling of their energy touching the magic he knew how to recognise now and telling him his message was received loud and clear. 

Blood dripping down his face, he made his bows to the audience, waving as his own elation carried him forward. When he turned back toward Viktor, he half expected the neutral expression that he guessed might be anger at having failed to listen.

Viktor throwing his arms open was what finally set Yuuri to crying, happiness overflowing his chest, magic following soon after. He raced across the ice, intent on throwing himself into Viktor’s arms. He almost did, but two things happened at once: Viktor stepped to the side, hands coming up in an apologetic stopping motion, and Yuuri finally made out the form of a shade that stood behind Viktor, waving madly at Yuuri.

He tripped over the barrier, Viktor reaching out to snag him by the waist before he barreled into the wall and the shade standing there.

“Woah! Please, no blood on the suit, it’s expensive.” Yuuri found the stuffed poodle tissue box case shoved at him, reaching for a tissue and mopping at his nose while Viktor stayed close. They moved away from the boards while scores were being calculated, Yuuri cautiously waving to the shade.

The shade shivered, waved again, then flowed away along the wall, moving past the skaters and coaches and press standing nearby.

“Did you see that?”

“You doing all your quads, slamming into the boards, or near slamming into a shade?” Viktor handed Yuuri another facial tissue as Yuuri rolled himself two little plugs, one for each nostril.

“Any of the above?” He sounded congested and sheepish, but he couldn’t find anything in him that felt apologetic. Viktor caught on, giving Yuuri a wry smile.

“Yes, I did. Which we should talk about later, after…”

After they were home. In the meantime, there were scores being announced, and Yuuri found himself laughing in happy surprise as his own combined score ranked higher than anything he’d managed in the last two seasons.

Flaws included, he was already showing progress. 

His future felt bright again on the ice. With the glimpses of shades at the rink limiting themselves to the friendlier iterations, he felt pretty optimistic on the magic side of things too.

* * *

Viktor knew by now who was most likely to give him what when it came to meal times. Yuuri was his primary target, and Yuuri was the most generous, knowing exactly who and what he was. After Yuuri came Toshiya, who out of a general congeniality would feed Viktor half of whatever he was eating while watching his soccer matches with whoever else wandered in for the high definition televising of events. He’d even share his alcohol when in a particular mood, though Viktor abstained from more than a lick at those times.

Hiroko was generous, but usually busy, and Mari followed a similar pattern. Mari was also most likely to have a random tidbit on hand when Viktor wandered past, up to the point where he regularly checked in with her in case she had something tasty to share.

He liked to think of himself as an opportunist with a certain charming air, because he wasn’t _begging_ ; he was politely inquiring. The Katsukis happened to be equally kind in their sharing nature, and that was that.

Minako turned out to be less affable before she was drinking, then far more so after, including pulling him up under an arm and narrating with surprisingly understandable Japanese exactly what she thought of anything on television. With the season getting ready to start, it was usually ice shows or recaps of the last season.

Tonight was the JSF’s announcement of their top skater’s season plans, a live televised press conference that had whisked Yuuri away from Viktor’s side. It was the first time the Nishigori family was over while everyone was eating, and even if the event was to watch the press conference where Japan’s leading skaters in singles, pairs, and ice dance announced their themes for the season, _food_ was still invariably part of it.

He ended up on Hiroko’s lap after being fed a ring of calamari, licking his lips and allowing her to manhandle him into place, his chin resting on the table before her. She had one hand curled around his chest, holding him steady, while the other one idly stroked through the curls on top of his head.

Viktor followed along with most the conversation, picking up more of the nuances than he had when he first embarked ( _hah_ ) on learning the national language. He didn’t have the same access to dictionaries or the same visual knowledge as he did the spoken context; Viktor understood more than he was able to speak, and far more than he could read. Still, understanding what he heard was more important than the rest with his current limitations.

It was nice feeling more and more like he could keep up with the conversations around him. Puns didn’t all register, and in fact mostly passed him by, but talking with Yuuri and sussing through possible meanings online was filling in blanks faster than he’d anticipated.

Hiroko had a pleasant way of speaking that lulled him into a near-meditative state as they watched the live broadcast. He picked Yuuri out on screen, knowing what his theme was, and wondering if he’d listened to Viktor’s advice about what to wear. He couldn’t make out if Yuuri had until he stepped forward to speak into the microphone, standing at the front of the stage with his tile turned around, showcasing a word: _love_.

Why had Yuuri gone with that tie? Even in his canine vision it failed to generate any sense of harmony or appeal. Yuuri’s suit wasn’t a perfect fit, but it wasn’t the worst. Viktor could see him in a much better cut, one that aimed to flatter and draw attention to the strong lines of his body, but it was a moot point by the time Viktor had realised Yuuri only _had_ one suit.

Viktor, wearing a tiny decorative tie the Nishigori triplets had brought with them, sighed. It was half-fond, half-exasperated. Hiroko patted his head, giving him a small, “There there,” in Japanese before returning her attention to the television, and the placard with love written across its face.

Yuuri started out quietly enough, gaining confidence and inner fire as he continued speaking, his clenched fist rising as he looked out over the audience. Viktor watched with increasing fascination and disbelief as Yuuri said… was he understanding? Something about Viktor, yes, and holding on, but it wasn’t love, only it was also love? Which love was he using? There were a few, and while Viktor didn’t understand all the nuances, he was aware of a handful at least.

He realised he was whining his confusion when Hiroko patted his head. “It’s okay, Vitya. Yuuri will be home soon.”

He wagged his tail in appreciation of her gesture, no matter how far off base it was. Wasn’t it? His confusion was because he didn’t understand what Yuuri meant in his speech, missing most the nuances that’d been present. It wasn’t like he was missing Yuuri after having him away for more than a day. Right? He wasn’t that far gone.

Yet when Yuuri made it back, stepping across the threshold of the onsen’s sliding front door, Viktor shifted weight from foot to foot in impatience waiting for Yuuri to slip out of his shoes and step up onto the floor proper. With all Yuuri’s family there to welcome him home, he couldn’t speak, but he could damn well barrel into Yuuri’s legs and leap up, imploring to be held. It was what one would expect from a dog anyhow, particularly one that missed a friend.

The way it eased an ache in Viktor’s chest was nothing he needed to spend time focusing on, not with the competitive season already rolling forward. He had a skater to train, a magical girl mage to keep intact, and a curse to break.

Did it matter what Yuuri meant when he said he wanted to hold onto Viktor?

_Yes_ , he told himself, _But at the same time, no_.

Whatever Yuuri meant, Viktor would still be here. Both for Yuuri’s sake and for his own.

* * *

Carrying Viktor’s passport tucked into his bag and carting Viktor around in a soft-sided carrier as his official service animal almost felt like lying. Yuuri hadn’t considered the dynamics involved in flying to competition with Viktor, presuming at first that they’d simply have him fly human, until Viktor pointed out he’d be exhausted enough using magical artifacts (his fancier, more correct term for the hair ties storing Yuuri’s magic) to stay in his true form during the competition, and adding additional travel hours would be a gamble. 

Besides, as Viktor had pointed out, it cost less to send one person via economy than it did to send two. 

Yuuri hated how he’d perked up realising that was true. It must have been a Katsuki trait to look for bargains and deals that helped stretch funds just that much further. Toshiya just also happened to have a great sense of advertising strategies and community connections and networking on top of it, which Yuuri lamentably lacked.

Thoughts of connections made him glad he didn’t need to worry about connecting flights, especially as he had to haul Viktor out from under the seat in front of him in order to walk him down the narrow airplane aisle to the restroom at about the midway point of their flight.

Once inside the narrow space, he maneuvered the toilet seat lid down and settled Viktor’s soft crate on top. Unzipping the front, he waited for Viktor to stick his head out.

Viktor stared at the floor, then craned his head around to stare up at Yuuri. “Do I really have to walk on this?”

Yuuri snorted, lips pulling up into a smile and apology in one as he crouched down, reaching for Viktor. They’d negotiated a system for Yuuri having to cart him around months ago. Right now was just one more instance of that negotiation being necessary. “Up we go!”

He settled Viktor on the narrow counter, keeping a hand hovering over his back in case they hit any sudden turbulence. Viktor took care to stretch, sinking into a bow and then stretching one hind leg at a time. “Thank you,” he said, sitting primly on the counter-top. “There are some indignities no man should have to live with.”

“Like walking on airplane bathroom floors?”

“Like walking _barefoot_ on airplane bathroom floors.” Viktor sniffed, tossing his head and ears. His act would have been more convincing if his tail didn’t twitch in a half-wag at the same time.

It was a brief break before Yuuri helped Viktor get back in his crate and hauled him off again. An older woman standing outside the airplane bathroom gave him a considering look as he juggled the accordian door and crate and narrow space outside the bathroom. He smiled, saying nothing and heading for his seat. His seat-mate was still sleeping, uncaring as Yuuri slid Viktor and his crate back in place under the seat in front of him.

Getting on the provided transportation from the airport and over to the hotel was a whole other juggling act. Nearly everyone wanted to see his service dog, leaving Viktor-as-Vitya the most well loved person on the bus.

He was likewise enchanting for the front desk workers, who arranged for Yuuri to be close to stair access point, issuing him an additional sign to hang off his door while the dog was in room, as a warning for the staff. It was the first time Viktor would be wearing a service dog vest, which specifically couldn’t be a vest. They’d been playing with how to make it work so that Viktor’s transformation back to his true form wouldn’t end up tearing it apart.

They’d decided on an elastic neckband, measured for Viktor’s human neck. Left loose on Viktor as a poodle, small lead weights for sea-fishing sewn into the corners of the material draped over Viktor’s back to help keep it in place. Trotting around at different speeds across Yu-topia’s open courtyard had been their slapdash test back in Japan when they realised what Viktor’s requirements would be in order to play his part during the moments where he couldn’t maintain a human guise.

Once they were registered and in room, Yuuri let Viktor out of the carrier and sunk down on his mattress, reviewing the copy of the schedule he had in email. Viktor leapt up and joined him, settling at Yuuri’s side and leaning over to look down at his phone too.

“Early morning practice sessions. All in the same rink as you’re competing in, so no surprises.”

“Were there supposed to be?” Yuuri smiled, trying to avoid yawning. 

Viktor nosed at Yuuri’s elbow, inserting his head between Yuuri’s arm and side. “There’s always something. Take a short nap and then eat? Chris is assigned here too, you should see if he has any plans for the night.”

Yuuri quirked up an eyebrow. “I don’t talk to Chris regularly, you know that.”

“You don’t seem to regularly talk with most anyone. Phichit is the closest you come, and that’s sporadic at best.”

“I follow him on Instagram!”

“You like his posts, Yuuri, that’s not the same as having a conversation.”

“Maybe not, but that’s not the point. Chris is probably out eating with his coach.”

“Then what about Phichit?”

Yuuri huffed. “I’ll ask Phichit, though don’t be surprised if he’s even more tired than I am.”

Viktor paused, then laughed; a small, shaking body against Yuuri’s side. “Okay, okay. Call Phichit. Text, message, or something. You can catch up and go to dinner, have a good night out with a friend and try to unwind as much as you can before we’re at practice in the morning.”

Yuuri found he wasn’t opposed to the idea. “What about you? You’ll just be in the room all night?”

“I may, or I may see if Yakov and Georgi are willing to spare some time for a poor cursed poodle-skater.” Viktor’s tail thumped against the mattress. “I’d take you out to dinner myself if that was feasible. Since I can’t, at least one of your friends can.”

Warmth spread through Yuuri’s chest, an affection he didn’t know how to articulate. Instead he gave Viktor a quick pet over his head and down his shoulders, balancing his phone on his leg. Phichit responded to his text within minutes, including a gif of a hamster running around in a giant green transparent plastic ball.

“He seems excitable.” Viktor said, observing the gif with a huff of laughter.

“He’s Phichit,” Yuuri said in turn, smiling in spite of himself.

They napped together, Yuuri waking to find Viktor had dragged the comforter over him so that he was almost fully covered by it while Viktor slept curled up by his head. He took care not to disturb Viktor as he slid off the bed, pausing and tucking part of the blanket over Viktor. Viktor sighed in his sleep, snuggling further into the pillow he rested partly beneath.

Yuuri set to unpacking, hanging garments, fishing out toiletries, checking that Viktor’s clothes were in order. There was an intimacy to it all that caught him by surprise as he set Viktor’s toothbrushes and toothpastes to the side of the sink. One for Viktor in his true form, and one for Viktor in his cursed form. Dog dentation required upkeep, too, as long as Yuuri was willing to aid Viktor in his brushing.

It was weird on so many levels, and weirdly _normal_ after months of negotiations and compromises handling both their limitations. Viktor had more pride and yet more humility than Yuuri expected, asking for help with an ease Yuuri suspected took more out of him than he let on. Yuuri didn’t know if he’d be able to handle half of Viktor’s requests with as much grace were their situations reversed.

He shivered, the hollow feeling in his chest chased out by grim determination. He was here to prove coaching him wasn’t a waste of Viktor’s time. For everything else, the magic and the shades and no longer living each night trapped in nightmares he couldn’t escape, there was no way to explain the depth of his gratitude. Not in words he knew how to say.

In actions? He might be able to manage that, continuing with small gestures like these, and ending with helping Viktor find the way to undo his curse. It was the least he could do.

“Have a good time,” Viktor said from the bed, sitting primly at the foot of it when Yuuri walked back out of the bathroom. He took a moment to catch on to what Viktor meant before he gasped, whirling around to his phone on the desk.

“I’m not going to have time to shower!”

“I doubt Phichit’s going to hold it against you.”

“He won’t, but I was looking forward to washing off the travel grime.” He sighed, rubbing at his eyes beneath his glasses. 

“Call an early night, take a good long shower when you’re back. Is the tub worth soaking in?”

Yuuri made a noncommittal noise. Viktor hopping off the bed with a grunt of impact when he landed, trotting off to the bathroom to make his own assessment. 

“Looks big enough to me!”

“You’re bucket sized,” Yuuri said, tone dry. “Doesn’t everything look big to you?”

Viktor’s claws clacked across the tile bathroom floor. He poked his head out, watching Yuuri pull on his coat. “I have a sense of relative size,” he said, mild enough. “I’m happy to test run the shower for you.”

“What, doggy style?”

Viktor coughed, breaking out into barking laughter while he disappeared back into the bathroom. “Yuuri, so bold!”

Yuuri tucked his phone in his pocket, heading for his shoes by the time his brain caught up with what alternative meanings his words might have had. It was enough for him to stop by the bathroom and look inside, waving one hand in dismissal while a blush stole across his cheeks. 

“Not what I meant, and you know it! Viktor, please.”

Viktor wagged his tail from where he was peering into the tub. “Yuuri, please. Go have fun, come home early, let the shower do what it was designed to do.” He stretched his head toward the faucet, giving it an experimental sniff. “Bring me back something delicious, and preferably not covered in sauce.” Viktor sighed, letting his head drop so that his chin rested between his paws on the lip of the empty bathtub. “I miss eating sauces whenever I want.”

Viktor’s forlorn look was a touch melodramatic, as he no doubt intended. Yuuri had a better read on what level of genuine feeling Viktor was expressing at any given time compared to when they first started living and training together. Viktor would be fine, and he was telling Yuuri that in as many different ways as he could.

“Something delicious without sauce, got it. Any other requests?”

Viktor lifted his head enough to look toward Yuuri in the doorway. “Champagne?”

“Nope.” Yuuri slipped off toward his shoes, smiling to himself as he heard Viktor’s exaggerated gasp and quiet laughter that followed.

Spending time with Phichit was like remembering all over again why he’d been easy to get along with back in Detroit. Yuuri didn’t have the incessant drive to photograph or _see_ everything they came across, but he also didn’t need to fill in any silences they lapsed into. Phichit appreciated his commentary when he gave it, from wry notes to genuine appreciation of a particularly impressive light structure they came across when wandering the sidestreets.

Dinner ended up being at some restaurant they had vouchers for, meaning the whole of the place held scattered skaters or members of their groups. Yuuri and Phichit caught up while sitting at a booth table, Yuuri careful not to order anything that might upset his system; Phichit showed much less strenuous care.

The real surprise was running into Celestino, or more accurately, having Celestino run across them both. Yuuri fought against the awkwardness that crept in as he smiled and waved stiffly at his former coach, afraid on some level he was disappointed with Yuuri as a whole.

Phichit’s laidback cheerfulness ignored any stiffness on Yuuri’s part, and soon Celestino too was a sort of balm, offering a few genuine questions about Yuuri’s confidence in his skate tomorrow, and then a cheerful, serious statement about watching out for Phichit.

“I think you’ll be surprised even after the time you’ve spent training at the same rink. It’s what keeps everything exciting, isn’t it? No one stops growing and chasing after their dreams.”

Phichit slid another beer toward Celestino, laughing and waving off his comment. “It’s not like my dreams stop here! Yuuri, I’m excited.” He set his phone down, his face mask tucked under his chin, an easy smile turning into a more serious expression. “Remember what I said about getting to compete on the same ice as you? I’m glad that’s finally coming true. You’re bringing your best skate tomorrow, right?”

He found it easier than he thought to smile and meet the challenge in Phichit’s eyes with challenge in his own. “Aiming for anything less is a waste. Besides, you’re using _Shall We Skate?_ this season, aren’t you?”

Phichit grinned, eyes narrowing a fraction before he laughed, light and happy. “Yes! Ciao Ciao finally agreed to it this season. You’ll be impressed, Yuuri! I’m not aiming to lose while I’m here.”

Yuuri smiled, glad for his friend, even excited at the prospect of seeing him skate this program in particular. He’d have to make sure he did, whatever their order of skating. Even from the back monitors would be enough. “If any of us did, I don’t think we’d be here in the first place.”

“Oh?” Phichit smiled, leaning forward on his elbows as Celestino held up his drink, likewise smiling. “Planning on winning gold tomorrow, Yuuri?”

He had never been one to so boldly make those claims. Not before Viktor, in all his living, breathing glory. Viktor, who on four paws directed Yuuri to do what he couldn’t.

“Yes,” he said, smile determined, “I’m aiming for the podium. I wouldn’t mind standing there wearing the gold.”

Celestino grinned, and within moments all three where saying cheers, Yuuri and Phichit with their waters, Celestino with his beer. By the time Yuuri begged off to head back for an earlier evening than usual, Celestino was well on his way to being drunk, and Yuuri was half tempted to offer to help Phichit wrangle his former coach home.

He didn’t need to, as Phichit assured him, waving him on and laughing as he took a photo of Celestino catching a moment of rest with his face pressed to the table’s mostly clean surface. With a parting advisement _not_ to post what he had on social media, Yuuri started toward where he remembered seeing grilled street food. He hoped he’d find something he could feed Viktor without worrying about his canine stomach.

As he walked, the shadows that had slipped past him while he kept company with Phichit seemed to slip back in. Unlike before, Yuuri didn’t feel the slow building terror that led him to escape into drinking or sleeping the shades away. He knew how to handle them, and while he preferred to do so with Viktor at his side, his magic was his own. He gathered it close, imagining pulling a thin, soft blanket around himself, dampening any sense of his magic as he slipped through the evening crowds.

It helped, allowing him to pass unnoticed by shades mingling or lingering around the stalls and corners and buildings along the way. He felt a pleasant sort of satisfaction at this sign of control over himself and his reactions to a part of the world he hadn’t known about this time last year.

Only one shade seemed particularly interested in Yuuri, and he supposed it was fair enough, considering it was the shade nearest to him when he finally stopped. He felt the shade’s hunger from where he stood waiting for an order of unseasoned meat on thin skewers, picking up a few for himself as well. 

Wrapping both separately, he nodded to the shade, leaving one portion of cooked meat sitting on a nearby ledge. The shade’s hunger slowly shift into pleasure; it was fascinating that their natures could change even through acts like these. Addressing the core feeling of a shade could inspire it to transform into something else. Something easier to live with.

He pondered on that as he walked back to the hotel, riding up the lift and trailing back to his room. Viktor wasn’t sitting outside; it was belatedly that Yuuri realised Viktor couldn’t have answered the door without turning human. Hotel doors were by and large too heavy for him to manage.

Had Viktor spent the whole night alone?

He was already apologising as he entered, stepping out of his shoes by the door and noting the light flooding the room. Viktor was sprawled on the bed, one hindleg kicked out to the side, the other tucked under his body. He had the remote control and his phone out, the adapted stylus he used resting next to his paw. 

“Yuuri! You’re back!” Viktor’s tail thumped against the comforter. “With treats! I can smell them from here.” His tail wagged faster, mouth dropping open as he licked his lips. 

He let Viktor’s apparent ease and enthusiasm soothe some of his worries about abandoning his coach to his own devices for the night. Viktor had insisted, and maybe Viktor benefited from a quiet night in as much as Yuuri did sometimes. It seemed unlikely he’d been able to talk with either Georgi or Yakov as it was, and that was fine. It was probably fine.

Yuuri shook off the uncertainty, offering Viktor a smile and his gift of unseasoned grilled meat. They ate together in companionable silence, Viktor delicately nibbling meat off the skewers, using his paws to keep them from moving. After a shower and a longer bath to soak out the aches from their day of travel, Yuuri crawled into bed and was joined by Viktor, once again curling up near his head.

The next morning arrived far too soon, and with it was Viktor and his cold nose finding Yuuri’s side when Viktor burrowed under the blankets. Yuuri came suddenly awake, jerking away and near tumbling out of bed. Viktor was a moving lump under the sheets, cheerful as he spoke.

“Good morning, Yuuri! Time to be up and getting breakfast, then heading over for our practice time. I should be there for the practice session, for the visible solidarity.” His head poked free of the sheets, bow knocked askew. With his tongue poking out of his mouth, Viktor looked like he was having the morning of his life.

Yuuri considered shoving a pillow down over Viktor’s head just to not deal with his cheer this early, but it was a moot point. Viktor, far more compelling and also persistent than any alarm Yuuri had encountered in his life, had him hustled and out through the door before another fifteen minutes passed.

His day passed in a blur, Viktor there at his side in one form or another. By the time they were in costumes and ready for their warm up skate, Yuuri’s day came back into sharp focus, but not before two things made themselves blatantly apparent: one, Phichit had followed Yuuri’s advice and only uploaded the selfie of them both outside the restaurant onto Instagram, and two, all of the older competitors weren’t content with Viktor coming back this season as a _coach_.

Including competitors that Yuuri knew.

A warm presence and hand wandering over his backside to cup his cheek and give a firm squeeze was followed by a low, familiar voice speaking by his ear. Yuuri stiffened automatically, less out of outrage and more out of not expecting the sudden invasion of his personal space.

“Chris!”

Christophe Giacometti, top male figure skater in the world for the last two seasons, took people by storm like that; but even as what Chris did brought heat to Yuuri’s face, he was already relaxing. Chris was a known factor. He wasn’t a threat off the ice—only on it.

He was probably his biggest threat on the ice when it came to portraying mature sexuality in particular, on top of the already intimidating truth of his two consecutive titles as World Champion.

“Has your master been training you well, Yuuri? So greedy of you, keeping him to yourself. Two seasons out of competing and he comes back not to the ice, but to stand at the boards.” Chris sighed, shifting around to Yuuri’s side. Yuuri turned his head to better see his face. “Such a shame. He was the best, those three years running up to that injury.”

Yuuri breathed out, the awkward laugh following his quiet eep dying prematurely. “Was?”

Chris smiled with a lazy blink, studying Yuuri’s face. “Is, technically. I may have held the gold on podium for the last two years, but neither time with the scores Viktor was regularly getting before his injury. When’s he coming back, Yuuri? Or is this him testing out retirement for real?”

Yuuri was saved from needing to struggle through his own heartsick frustration at how _unfair_ it was Viktor wasn’t currently competing by the arrival of the man himself. Viktor adjusted his gloves, glancing between Yuuri and Chris while ignoring the murmurs of the other skaters and coaches in the back hall.

“Chris, it’s good to see you. Yuuri, are you feeling good for the warm up skate?”

Chris stepped from Yuuri’s side into Viktor’s space, taking hold of his dangling credentials and lifting them in his fingers. “Viktor, what’s with this coaching nonsense? I’m barely motivated since you went out on injury. I need you out there to stir myself to more _impressive_ performances.”

Viktor smiled, almost indulgent as he made no move to reclaim his credentials from Chris. “Coming from the two time World Champion, I’m not sure that’s all true.”

Chris pouted, letting go of Viktor’s credentials in order to smooth them down against his chest. “It’s not the same without you, Viktor.”

Yuuri knew what Chris meant, for all Chris had been competing in seniors with Viktor for longer. At the same time, he didn’t want to hear more of this conversation. All it seemed to do was compound the fact that Viktor was here as a coach, and no one other than Yuuri wanted him to be. 

The conversation was interrupted as Josef, Chris’s coach since his junior days, joined their small group. Yuuri saw Phichit move off with Leo de la Iglesia and Guang Hong, wishing briefly he could leave with them. They were part of the young generation coming into senior’s skating, but right now, it was less intimidating to be near the young talent than next to the last two world champions standing side by side.

_Except one of them’s my coach, and the other one’s my competition._ Yuuri tuned back into the conversation in time to hear Viktor called away by two ladies skaters, seeing him step over to greet them.

“The world’s waiting to get him back,” Chris said from Yuuri’s side, giving him a sidelong glance. “It seems unfair for him to fade away before he’d had a chance to realise his best potential.”

“He’s not fading,” Yuuri said, more clipped than he meant to be. He met Chris’s stare with a firm one of his own, almost surprised to see Chris’s expression relax into something friendlier.

“No… He’s not. I just wanted to compete against him and win before leaving the ice. Isn’t it the same for you?”

Yuuri looked toward Viktor, talking with the two laughing women. “Once there was nothing I wanted more.”

“And now?”

He kept his eyes on Viktor, seeing his polite smiles, seeing his charm in action. It was an easy affability in social situations that Yuuri envied, in a vague, unfocused way.

“Now there are some things I find even more precious. Not that I’d mind the chance to go toe-to-toe with Viktor on the ice.” He looked toward Chris, pulling his lips up into an almost sincere smile. “Taking on two World Champions at once would be one hell of a rush.”

Chris blinked in surprise and laughed, clasping Yuuri’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze. “It would be, wouldn’t it? Who knows. Maybe you’ll have a chance to show your master a trick or two sometime before you retire.” With a wink and a blown kiss, Chris was off, calling out a farewell to Viktor before heading after his coach.

It all left Yuuri to his own thoughts before Viktor rejoined him, setting him even more firmly in a mindset he’d been slowly embracing since regionals.

_If I’ve taken Viktor from the world, then I want everyone to know it. I want them to know he’s mine, and that I know his love like no one else does._

_I want them to know that I’m the man who promised to bring him back, even when the world really didn’t know just who they’d lost._


	10. i like big

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri finds himself facing his first magical girl incident on ice. It's... bouncy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friendly reminder that some images are so ridiculous that viewing in public is entirely at your own risk. ;) Also Luna is a beautiful, beautiful person, and we may have the next Atlus game boss located somewhere below in this chapter...

Viktor watched Yuuri’s solidifying determination with a sense of excitement fizzing through his core. He didn’t know what flipped Yuuri’s switch to be so _on_ , only that he wanted to see where it carried him. The anxiety Yuuri felt so keenly at regionals and even the day before seemed absent, turned into a laser focus that set Yuuri’s features into deceptively unemotive lines.

Viktor’s anticipation went hand in hand with his careful monitoring of Yuuri’s magical, physical, and mental wellbeing. Brief discussions with Yakov and one of the security staff members representing the mages operating in Beijing provided Viktor with some reassurance that the stadium was covered for standard magic fluxuations. Given that the size of the event and the associated crowd were known factors, Beijing felt comfortable using the same numbers of mages on premises as they had in prior years. There were few incidents; Viktor was to trust they had it handled.

He did, but as with everything he’d been learning with Yuuri in his life, he also accepted the likelihood of the unexpected. Passing along the information that he was mentoring someone as a magical girl, he’d blithely ignored the startled expression of the senior mage and accepted her acknowledgement that any magical girl class developments would be left to him and his mentee before Beijing would call in their own specialised forces.

It was rather militant in a manner, but also expedient on her part. Magical girl class developments were usually few and far between, local to whatever magical girl was currently learning their skills. 

Yuuri was a very late bloomer by most mage standards, especially by magical girl standards, but his presence alone meant there was a possibility of such a development at the event. Where people gathered, magic pooled. Where emotions were strongly felt, those pools of magic gained form and purpose. Shades were that simple, and that elemental. They were a natural byproduct of humanity.

They were also a nuisance, or a danger, depending on an individual shade’s strength and formed purpose. Most those he’d glimpsed in the area so far were standard, embodying a singular emotion, avoiding most people and each other as they milled around the fringes of rooms, ceilings, and at one point, the tiles in a hall. Yet there was always the potential for them to band together, or absorb each other, and gain something more like the squid shade’s degree of focused purpose. Even on their own, any shade attempting to possess a physical body was a higher level of trouble, but combined with more complex reasoning? It was frightening the amount of damage one might cause.

All those thoughts swirled around in his head as he watched Yuuri hit the ice, standing at the boards and placing his hand over Yuuri’s clenched fists. Yuuri didn’t need to worry about magic right now; only the magic that was his skill in skating, in crafting the story told through the music of his program and seducing an entire stadium of people with his charms alone.

“You can do this as yourself,” he said, rubbing his fingers over the back of Yuuri’s cloth-covered hands. “Using your charms, you can seduce the audience. You know that, don’t you?”

Why did he phrase it as a question? Yuuri seemed unphased either way, opening his fists to thread his fingers through Viktor’s, leaning forward and pressing their foreheads together. The intensity of his gaze bore down on Viktor, brown eyes overtaking his world with an inner fire Viktor felt to his core.

“Watch me,” Yuuri said, “Don’t take your eyes off me, Viktor.” Then he turned away, pushing off and heading for the center of the rink as Guang Hong’s scores were announced over the loudspeakers. The crowd applauded, a cacophony that faded into staccato echoes, and Yuuri waved as Guang Hong and his coach left the kiss and cry. The applause resumed and tapered off as he took his starting position, Viktor leaning against the boards.

When he started to move, Viktor only wondered how it was that Yuuri thought he’d ever want to look away in the first place. 

* * *

Viktor had a hard time pinning down exactly what he felt beyond the obvious as he watched Yuuri skate; it was difficult to know exactly when the magic balance in the stadium started to shift. He first recognised it when the audience’s mood shifted during Yuuri’s short program, the feedback between Yuuri’s performance and their own energies intensifying. Landing his quad salchow had been a defining moment, not just for Yuuri’s confidence, but for the energy Viktor sensed from where he stood by the boards.

Following Chris’s prompting to join Yuuri down where he exited the ice for the kiss and cry, he shoved magic concerns to the back of his mind in favour of the competitive ones they presently faced. His elation at Yuuri’s performance kept him smiling, winking to the cameras and forming a heart with his hands. Yuuri was almost a misleading oasis of calm at Viktor’s side, his magic a gentle brush against Viktor as he clutched his water thermos, plush onigiri balanced in his lap.

There was little of the anxiety Viktor associated with Yuuri swirling around in that touch; mostly a sort of pleasant, exhausted haze, as if he’d managed to prove something to himself and the rest of the world by extension. For a first full international showing that season, he’d done well.

When his scores were announced, Yuuri leaned forward to squint at the monitor in apparent confusion while Viktor beamed and applauded along with the audience. Yuuri achieved his new personal best, and as that knowledge sunk in, Yuuri seemed happy. Confused and happy, and then stilted as he spoke to the press after they’d shuffled out of the rink itself.

Viktor felt another disturbance as they watched Chris’s short program from the back monitor when those press statements were done, the two of them standing side by side with Phichit and Guang Hong. There was no arguing that Chris wasn’t performing to his best as far as technical elements, but whatever he’d downgraded in jumps, he still managed a higher grade of execution. Paired with his flawless presentation, and the sheer sex appeal he oozed on the ice…

Viktor patted Yuuri’s shoulder consolingly as he admitted today might have gone to Chris as far as _eros_ was concerned. The scores, on the other hand, left Yuuri in the lead.

Viktor thought he would have been ecstatic. He felt Yuuri’s happiness, but just as much, he saw the evidence of strain and the nervous way Yuuri kept moving, freezing up at sounds half heard, tense and jumpy. They got through Yuuri’s press obligations and then headed back to the hotel, Viktor feeling like something was off. Then most his focus was on Yuuri and his growing anxiety, manifesting as even more nervous energy and the inexplicable dive for social media to check on everything everyone else was doing.

Viktor was back on four paws, drained from a day of using magic artifacts to maintain his true form. From his perch on Yuuri’s bed, he reminded him to eat, to stretch, to shower, to stretch again, and to come to bed. Yuuri responded in distracted sentences, once or twice even in Japanese based on what he’d been reading on his phone’s tiny, bright screen. Viktor wondered if Yuuri noticed when Viktor responded in the same language.

His preoccupation was enough that he crawled into the second bed that would have been Viktor’s, vaguely apologising for taking up Viktor’s space. Viktor tilted his head to the side and sighed, hauling himself up to hop over the dividing space and nestle down by Yuuri’s back.

“Sleep well, Yuuri,” he said, pitching his voice to sound cheerier than he felt. All the worries from earlier in the day were coming back with the lights turned off. Only a concentrated effort to push them down allowed his tired mind to follow his body into the darkness of a sleep deep enough Viktor didn’t dream.

When he woke, it was to find a Yuuri who didn’t look like he’d slept a wink the night before crawling out of bed next to him, the bags under his eyes dark enough to be bruises on their own. Viktor frowned, hustling Yuuri through their morning routine to get them off to practice session on time. Each of the skaters in his group would get the same playthrough of their song while everyone else could stay on ice at the fringes, keeping loose and limber. Yuuri was last in that line-up based on how he’d scored the day before, just as he would be last to skate tonight.

The foreboding feeling from the day before only intensified as Yuuri finished his off-ice stretching, yawning into his hand and tightening the laces of his boots.

“We’re napping after this,” he said, watching Yuuri’s brief surprise pass into something like resignation. “I always did, right up to the last moment. Competitive events are tiring even to someone with your kind of stamina.”

He smiled, not feeling like smiling, but figuring it would soften the demand. Yuuri stifled another yawn before he acquiesced, nodding once at the entrance to the rink. “Sure,” he said, “Naps after cooling down.”

Viktor accepted Yuuri’s guards and watched him join the five skaters already on the ice. Most the coaches were quiet, likewise observing their skaters or talking to them in low tones when they stopped by the boards, rehydrating or blowing noses or discussing a component that wasn’t going as planned.

Awareness of magic thrummed under his skin, jolting sharp as he watched Yuuri crash and spin around on the ice, sea starring after a jump. He was back up on his feet before he’d completed more than two rotations, but the _feeling_ didn’t change intensity.

Viktor frowned, looking away from Yuuri to check the perimeter for security staff. Rubbing at his covered arm, he leaned back from the boards, wondering if any of the staff felt the same thing. He hesitated to ask Yuuri when he next stopped by the boards to rehydrate, but there were some things he couldn’t spare him just because he’d prefer to have less stress in Yuuri’s life.

“Are you feeling anything with the energy levels here?”

Yuuri swallowed, lowering his water bottle to blink and consider the question. “I’m not sure. I thought it might have been the lack of sleep.”

Viktor snorted, a soft sound paired with a dry look of mild censor. “That’s why we’re napping after this, but no, it’s not just the exhaustion. Keep your senses open while you’re out there. I don’t think we’re going to run into anything, but it’s best if you’re prepared.”

Yuuri nodded, focus bringing a forced brightness to his eyes. “Okay. If anything _does_ happen, how will I know?”

A valid question when all their run-ins with shades in the past had happened out of any public eye. While there were some people scattered in the stands watching practice, and press taking photographs but held off from any interviews, it wouldn’t seem as likely there’d be an issue now.

“You’ll know. Like at Japan’s National Championship.”

Yuuri paused, setting down his water. “Oh. You mean, that was…”

“Partially magic in nature? Yes. No one got hurt, but there was enough chaos before it was handled. We’re not going to be facing anything like that, okay?” He held out the poodle-cover tissue box, offering a smile of reassurance at the same time. “You’re not alone here, and you’re trained now. It won’t be like last year’s Nationals.”

“Right, sure. If you say.” Yuuri blew his nose, crumpling up the tissue paper and handing it off to Viktor. Or trying—he managed to miss, a frown growing on his features—and Viktor caught it just before it fell out of his reach. Yuuri struck off without another word while Viktor was still draped over the boards, joining the remaining skaters while Chris continued to skate through his routine to his music.

Georgi’s music played next, Chris stepping off ice and towel drying his face as he rehydrated. He picked up conversation with Viktor for a while, trading flirtations and more serious questions about when Viktor would be finally announced as ready for the ice.

“No one ever says what exactly happened, Viktor. When are you coming back?”

He laughed, finding no humour in any of it, or his ongoing inability to have any actual answers. He glanced back toward the ice, catching sight of Yuuri looking his way from across the rink. He lifted his hand in a wave, Yuuri glancing away again, continuing to skate and switching into a backward crossover. “I don’t know, Chris. If it were just my decision, I’d say before Nationals this year, but it’s not.”

He turned back to Chris, offering a wry smile. “You know how it is. Do you really think Russia would have let me sit out for two seasons, going on three, if there was a choice?”

They both knew the answer to that, and Chris sighed, looking a trace concerned. “If things have been that serious, aren’t there specialised training facilities you can be working at for recovery?”

“I have a therapy schedule I follow. Once I’m cleared, Chris, be prepared. In the meantime, you may want to get used to seeing Yuuri a step higher than you on the podium.” He winked, Josef snorting as he handed Chris his jacket.

“He’s been less motivated with you gone, Viktor, but Chris hasn’t been a slouch.”

“No, you never have been.” He inclined his head toward Chris. “You haven’t been pushing yourself either. Not as hard as you used to do.”

Josef flicked his gaze to Chris. Chris frowned, lips drawn into a thin line as he regarded Viktor. “I don’t have the luxury of staying where I was,” he said instead of anything else, glancing back toward the rink. “Whatever you’ve done with Yuuri has made quite a change. He’s not the skater from the last few seasons, and he was already good.” Chris smiled, eyes narrowing a fraction with the kind of challenge Viktor used to thrive on. “He might actually be a contender.”

“There’s no might about it. He’s a contender, and he’ll be taking gold.”

Georgi’s music ended, the announcer speaking ahead of Yuuri’s music, and Viktor felt a visceral pull toward the rink. He jammed a hand into his coat pocket, fist forming around the hair ties jammed in there, and swallowed as he saw Yuuri head toward the middle of the ring.

Something was about to happen. He wished to hell he knew what that something would be.

* * *

Yuuri heard Viktor call out to him from a distance, but his focus was turned inward, barely registering his free skate music as it came over the speakers. He temporarily had the rink to himself, the rest of the skaters either off ice or stopped by the boards with their coaches. As he moved through his opening sequence, the spiral of his thoughts continued to spin faster. Everything he saw seemed to spur him on to the illogical conclusions he couldn’t prevent.

He didn’t have the _eros_ to pull off his short program; he did have the _eros_ , but Viktor still found Chris’s maturity of _eros_ more appealing; he was going to screw up, like he did last year, only earlier, showing yesterday as a fluke; Viktor would determine Yuuri couldn’t help him solve the issue of his curse; he was too tired to last through his free skate; the shades would get out of hand because Yuuri was such a disaster and the whole event would be ruined.

He tried forcing those thoughts away, but even as he did the lights flickered and went out, plunging the rink into darkness. Sound muffled, his music no longer audible, the cut of his blades across the scarred ice silent. Yuuri shivered, calling out to Viktor as he came to an abrupt stop.

“Viktor!”

“Yuuri!”

He sounded so far away.

As fear started to thread through his thoughts, two overhead lights came on; bright floodlights for the exhibition skates, anchored to the ceiling. One illuminated Yuuri, lighting up where he stood on the ice. The other trailed away from him, coming to a stop on upper stands. The shadows beyond the ring of light quivered, a heavy _thump-thud_ , _thump-thud_ accompanying the movement of what must be an approaching shade.

Viktor called out again. “Yuuri! Activate your transformation _now_!”

Provoked into motion, Yuuri flowed into the familiar choreography, ending with one elbow pointed toward the spotlight, a v for victory held out with his other hand in the same direction. As the magic swept over him, engulfing him in a warmer light than the one shining down from overhead, he shifted stance, no longer on skates, but oddly enough back in a rendition of his _Eros_ costume. THe first costume of Viktor’s he’d ever transformed into. Yuuri gripped his wand, flicking his eyes toward it to gauge what he was holding, and nearly blanched.

“Seriously? A _whip?_ ”

He heard an awkward shuffle-walking behind him, Viktor emerging from the darkness in full costume. He flashed Yuuri a grim smile, turning his attention toward the second spotlight and the thudding progress of what approached. “Trying to whip someone into shape?”

Yuuri pointed with his whip toward the shade being slowly illuminated. “Apparently whatever that is! Viktor, what’s going on? This hasn’t happened before!”

Viktor reached out, placing a hand on Yuuri’s shoulder for reassurance, never taking his eyes off the approaching shade. “I’d say this counts as a magical girl level disturbance. I’ve never seen one in action, personally, but the darkness, the lights… I’m pretty sure we’re in a frozen moment.”

“What?!”

Viktor squeezed Yuuri’s shoulder, still looking forward. “All it means is everything goes back to normal after taking care of this shade. You’ve got this, Yuuri.”

He held his whip and felt like that might be both a gross overestimate of his mental state and an oversimplification of what was going on. Yuuri wanted to debate, but when the shade thumped into view, all words promptly fled Yuuri’s mind.

Half a rink and half a flight of stadium seats away, two large, globular mounds moved in tandem. The shade shimmered purple-blue, sparkling here and there as the light caught its surface, shedding glitter into the air. The whole structure of its face, if it could be said to have one, put Yuuri in mind of a late Picasso portrait, deep red lips floating off to the left, a green eye lined in red lower down, framed with generous lashes. On the opposite cheek another green eye stared across the stadium at him, set near perpendicular to the first. A hint of a third eye loomed near the top, situated on a backside Yuuri couldn’t see. 

“Is that…”

“There’s no way it’s…”

Yuuri turned to look at Viktor at the same moment Viktor turned to look at him. “A giant, bouncing butt?!”

He wanted to laugh at first. It was patently absurd! Even the colours seemed familiar, but he didn’t have time for that, not as the shade’s off-center mouth opened and it _spoke_.

“You know you’ll never manage a full _eros_ , don’t you? You lack the maturity,” the bouncing buttocks said, fluttering its eyelashes in a way that disturbed Yuuri as it came closer, _thump-thudding_ along the way. He swore the eyes might even be drifting, blinking out of time with each other, all set at wildly different angles.

Viktor stood at his side, lips curling up into a grim smile. “I’m here as backup, but you’re going to have to top that on your own.”

“Top?”

“Stop.” Viktor looked faintly pained. “ _Stop_ that on your own.”

Yuuri gave him a dry look, obscurely thankful. Slip or not, it broke his train of thought and set him into action. He needed to be close enough to unleash his magic attack using his wand. His whip-wand.

Yuuri stepped forward, careful of how he moved on the ice. Little clacks underfoot had him glancing down, lifting a foot. Even in the shadow cast by his own body, he could see the little metal cleats on the bottom of his decorated boots, and he grinned, grateful his magic had been _practical_ in its application. Less of a chance of just falling on his own arse like this.

“”I don’t remember asking for your advice!” He called back, the spotlight slow as it followed after the shade. Soon enough the whole disturbing, bouncing mass was backlit, leaping down rows of seats, fast approaching the boards. Yuuri felt faint vibrations from every landing as he approached, cracking the whip once experimentally, then again. Unlike the other wands his magic had manifested, this was needed a little more finesse in the wielding.

“Planning on whipping me into shape?” The shade laughed, the mass of it quivering like jelly left on a table during an earthquake. “We’re going to have such _fun_ , you and I.”

“No thank you, I don’t have time for this.” By the third crack, Yuuri had a sense for how to hold his wrist. Now he simply had to be close enough to unleash his attack to end this nonsense. Yet as he walked closer, he felt himself slow down, conflicting emotions at war in his chest. “Even if I did, I wouldn’t want to do whatever you’re implying.”

“Oh?” The shade hopped closer, laughing as it went. It winked with the eye on the far left. “Did your old dog not teach you a few new tricks? Such a shame, you didn’t even manage to learn _mature_ seduction from figure skating’s most eligible bachelor. Don’t worry—I’m happy to take over your instruction. Or his.” The shade blew Yuuri a kiss. One that actually flew at him across the ice.

Yuuri saw the danger before Viktor called out, dodging to the side as the kiss landed with enough force to have knocked him flat. The ice shivered underneath him, a faint sigh following impact. Another blown kiss headed Viktor’s way. He saw Viktor throwing himself out of the way and falling on the ice. His shoes didn’t appear to have the same cleats as Yuuri’s, leaving him at a disadvantage.

Yuuri had to end this fight, fast.

“I don’t think you can handle me, really,” Yuuri said, scrambling for anything that would work to goad the shade on. The shade that, admittedly, looked like a giant bouncing butt. He was now at the stage of his life where giant buttocks were menacing him in skating rinks. “And Viktor’s already spoken for.”

“By whom? You?” The shade heaved itself up, clearing the last of the seats and crashing down on the other side of the boards. “You think someone like you can hold his interests for more than a season?”

Yuuri flinched, tucking his chin in and glaring as his lips thinned into a severe frown. It was one of his worries, yes, but also one of his hopes that he would lose nothing in Viktor returning to the ice. One he’d voiced to Viktor months ago; one that hadn’t changed. 

That wasn’t what he said.

“Yes, I do!” He shifted stance, lifting his arm and holding the whip high, arm fully outstretched. “Just like I think he’s the only one who knows if that’s true or not. I can’t speak for Viktor, I can only speak for myself!”

The shade laughed again, hefting up and over the boards with ridiculous height on its jump. When it landed, the whole of the rink shook under the impact, bringing Yuuri to his knees.

“Greedy, greedy, greedy. Didn’t you know? This world is all about what you can take.”

Yuuri pushed off the ice with his free hand, lifting the whip once again as the shade loomed over him. “No,” he said, realising he believed in what he was saying. “It’s about learning what you can give.” He extended his magic into the whip, seeing it glow brightly in his hand as he brought the whip cracking down, lashing out at the shade. Bright lines of light struck out, spreading the impact of his whip against its jiggling, shifting mass. “I want to eat katsudon!”

He really wished he’d had a better catch-phrase, but the core idea of getting to eat the dish meant for winners with Viktor at his side remained true. Even if he also wanted to compete against Viktor. Even if Viktor had no obligations to Yuuri once his curse was broken. _Even if_ , because Viktor hadn’t been saying he was waiting to leave.

He’d been saying for a while that he didn’t want to go at all.

The shade shuddered at impact, letting out a keening cry that sounded far too close to salacious. Yuuri stumbled backward as it bounced forward, losing his footing again at the shade’s impact with the ice.

“ _Oh_ ,” said the shade, “Oh yes, _harder_. I barely felt a thing!”

Yuuri lashed out again, the crack of the whip ricocheting off the walls, painting another line of light across the giant, bouncing shade. Again it laughed, not falling to pieces, but holding together, the line of light fading to leave a raw looking line against its surface. Was it just his imagination, or was it _growing_ too?

“Why isn’t it working?” Yuuri grunted as he hit the ice again, scrabbling for purchase and throwing himself to the side to evade the shade’s counter attacks. Each hit he landed had the same effect, leaving an angry line across the shade, but failing to penetrate.

The fifth time he landed an attack, he dodged back into a warm body that kept them both standing instead of falling to the ice. “For the record,” Viktor said, speaking low by Yuuri’s ear, “I far prefer your _eros_ to anyone else’s. Since it was under discussion.”

Yuuri flushed, swallowing and keeping his eyes on the advancing shade. “I know,” he said, surprised to find he _did_ know that. “But what are we going to do about _that?_ ” He jerked his chin toward the shade.

Viktor rested one hand on Yuuri’s hip, pressing against his back. He looked over Yuuri’s shoulder, his other arm winding around Yuuri’s waist. “You’ve been doing overhand hits. Try coming up across your body,” he said, demonstrating with his finger dragging from Yuuri’s left hip up toward his lower right ribs. “Focus on _your_ eros, not the shade’s eros.” Viktor’s hand returned to Yuuri’s navel, fingers spreading out over his abdomen.

How was he supposed to focus on anything when Viktor was distracting him like this? Only he knew even as he asked himself that question, because that was in essence the point. With Viktor’s warmth at his back, the steadiness of one hand at his hip and the other against his stomach, Yuuri let his arm drop low, clenching his fingers around the handle of his whip. The shade was almost on top of them, a glittering, shimmering mass. Yuuri called on his magic, sending it flowing down the length of his whip once again.

Focus on his _eros_. Not just a story about seducing and leaving the playboy behind, though that was his narrative when it came to his short program. _Yuuri’s eros_ was more complicated, more greedy, more demanding. He wasn’t someone who knew how to let go, and he wanted more, wanted what he couldn’t strictly have. 

He wanted Viktor, and he knew that; knew he wanted more than the simplicity of physical pleasure that neither one of them would indulge in now anyway. What did Viktor want? He didn’t know, was afraid to ask. 

_I’m not planning on going anywhere without you._

Maybe Yuuri didn’t ask because he was too close to hoping for too much. Right now wasn’t for difficult questions. It was heat pooling below his belt, memories of Viktor as he smiled with dark eyes, innocent touches in a shared bed, the fall of his hair against his forehead. It was shirts that didn’t quite fit, accidentally borrowed underwear, and faint lasting impressions of dreams that left him feeling sticky and overheated when he woke.

Yuuri’s _eros_ at present was more frustrated than anything else, and holding on to that frustration, letting the longing and confusion tangled in with it rise in his chest, he brought up his whip, slashing into the shade with a _crack_ and brilliant outpouring of light.

“I want to be with Viktor more than I want to eat katsudon, you gigantic ass!”

Viktor’s head dropped down to rest on Yuuri’s shoulder as the light pierced through the shade, tearing it apart to a low, moaning cry. It was bright enough he had to look away, covering his eyes while the shade turned into hundreds of clusters of floating points of light, ones that burst like fireworks over both their heads in the aftermath, falling down like stars to bounce and gather on the ice around their feet in a growing circle. If Viktor shook with quiet laughter, holding onto Yuuri the whole while, Yuuri chose to ignore it. He was embarrassed enough as it was, and he still had a free skate to survive later on in the day.

“Time should be reasserting itself here in a matter of seconds.” Viktor lifted his head, hands falling away from Yuuri. Did Yuuri imagine that it was a reluctant loss on Viktor’s part, or was that just in his head?

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” Yuuri closed his eyes, releasing the transformation for both of them. He was standing on skates with Viktor scuttling off the ice in shoes just as poorly suited for the movement as his transformed shoes were. Only more expensive, doubtlessly.

Time reasserted itself with a rush of sound, music and echoes and the soft susurrations of the crowd catching up with a rush of light on its heels. Yuuri stumbled as he went temporarily blind, rubbing at his eyes and shaking his head while his music played on, uncaring about his stillness.

He needed to be moving. Blinking through the stars dancing in his eyes, Yuuri caught up with the music, marking a jump he usually would have followed through on and picking up speed for the first of his spins.

He had no trouble heading back to the hotel and crashing under Viktor’s watchful eyes after the practice session ended. No trouble at all. He was more troubled in waking up after, but adrenaline surged through him at the first thought of oversleeping, and even being repeatedly reassured he was in no such danger for missing his group’s time on ice didn’t set him back at ease.

He forgot in the interim he was leading the male’s single skaters from the short program, only reminded when glancing over the order and sorting out that he’d be able to watch Phichit’s skate if he was stretching near the monitors at the same time. He made a point of it, too soul-weary to do more than feel pleased at his former rink-mate’s brilliant performance. Phichit had been doing well when Yuuri last saw him, but this was a different level still; and Phichit was only twenty. 

Although the press kept trying to corner him for interviews, Viktor proved deft at evading them with simple statements and a ready smile. Yuuri stretched with music drowning out half the sounds around him, focusing on several truths at once: if he made it through this and on the podium, he’d be skating his exhibition tomorrow for the first time; if he made it through this and back home, he had two days to recover from travel before training resumed as normal; when he made it through this, regardless, Viktor would still be there.

They were facts. Bizarre in all cases, but no less true for their unexpectedness.

Then it was time to head through the curtains to the rinkside, Viktor walking at his side, Georgi coming to the end of his free skate. Yuuri knew he looked tired, and there was nothing he could do to change that, so he accepted it instead.

“Go show them who Yuuri is on the ice,” Viktor said, and Yuuri almost smiled; but he nodded instead, taking a proffered facial tissue and blowing his nose. Scrunching it up, he handed it back to Viktor, letting go a little too early, much like he’d done earlier that day in his frustration. Viktor jerked forward, catching the used tissue before it fell beyond his reach for the second time. 

“Good catch,” he said, barely speaking over a murmur, patting Viktor’s head while it was in easy reach. “Thank you,” he said too, gratitude for more than the fast actions in that moment.

He didn’t look back to see if Viktor understood. He simply skated to his starting position, and with his arms at his sides and his head tilted down, Yuuri waited for the music. When he moved, it was to bring the story of his amateur career to life on the ice, only to find in the process, he was skating a love letter to the _people_ in his life, on and off the ice. 

The love of his parents, who didn’t understand his dream, but took pleasure in his joy found within it; Mari, who told him in no uncertain terms she would support him as long as he chased after his dream, as long as he acknowledged it; Minako and her encouragement, as swift and beautiful as her corrections in his lifetime of ballet under her tutelage; Yuuko and her boundless energy and enthusiasm, introducing Yuuri to the teenager who changed his life into something more focused; Takeshi and his change from antagonist to companion and blunt supporter; Axel, Loop, and Lutz, who talked about Yuuri and followed the skating world with an enthusiasm he wish he’d had at their age. 

Appreciation for the coaches through his life, including Celestino, who he had never pushed back against in the ways he’d learned to do with Viktor. Love for Vicchan, too, a being who knew only how to give love, and accept being loved in return, missed and mourned.

There was also the affection he felt for Phichit, a friend when Yuuri had trouble making friends with his narrow line of focus and his lack of conscious sociability. He could be solitary and happy with it; he still found solace amoung the people he cared to be around. It had been nice having someone else come along who found the whole cultural exchange of the United States as bewildering as Yuuri had.

Under all of it, a thrumming note that touched against the magic he now recognised in each and every part of himself, there was Viktor. Viktor who had inspired Yuuri toward the beauty of expression through skating; Viktor who had, in existing, given Yuuri new tastes and interests and zest for life. Viktor who had become his focal point, his measurement of personal achievement, his goal. Viktor who had been taken out of the sun too soon by an injury he couldn’t recover from because it was no injury at all, gone before Yuuri managed to be consistent enough on the international stage in seniors to show well.

Viktor, who had become someone touchable to him, flawed and wonderful and ridiculous and insightful, blunt and caring, beautiful and cursed. He’d said it at the press conference months earlier: what he felt was love, but not restricted to any one understanding of love. He knew beyond all things he didn’t want to let Viktor go.

He knew Viktor didn’t want to leave.

_I never want to stop surprising him_.

It was that thought that rang through his head as he moved through his program, not perfect, but close. _I wonder what would happen if…_

He held no doubts when he went into his final quad. Not from the moment he gained speed to kick off the ice, pulling into rotations and calculating the shift of his weight to land as he needed on the opposite foot, using the backward outside edge.

It wasn’t perfect—his hand came down, touching the ice—but it was complete.

Yuuri landed a quad flip on the ice in competition, and he wondered, as he held his ending position, lungs heaving, sweat dripping, if he’d made Viktor angry. If he’d made him cry. What, if any, reaction Viktor had.

He couldn’t tell from where he stood on the ice, could only see Viktor start to move, running down the boards toward the kiss and cry. Yuuri smiled, first uncertain, then with a joy he didn’t want to contain. He’d done it, pulled off Viktor’s signature move, when for two years no one had managed anything like it in competition.

“Did you see?” he said, calling out as he skated toward the exit. “How did I do?”

Viktor only looked at him, smiling, and then moving forward, leaping for Yuuri as Yuuri slowed to a stop. Time didn’t slow down, wasn’t so kind as to pull the same stunt twice in one day, but he still _noticed_ so much in those few seconds.

Viktor, eyes bright, lips parting. His arms flung forward, catching around Yuuri’s shoulders, fingers of one gloved hand carding through Yuuri’s hair. A moment where Yuuri knew with remarkable certainty he was about to be kissed, and then the press of lips so soft as to be unbelievable against his own. A brief flash and sharp crack that might have been his ribcage breaking from the overflow of sensation he felt followed after, and then impact, and the breath was knocked from his lungs.

His lips still tingled with that too brief contact where he found himself lying on the ice, Viktor cradling his head, face tucked into the crook of Yuuri’s neck. His weight was altogether pleasant, albeit unexpected, and Yuuri knew his wide-eyed stare was just shy of being comical. 

Viktor shifted his grip, pushing up with one arm and a knee to the outside of Yuuri’s legs, blue eyes staring down at him as if he were someone worth staring at, worth admiring. He stared up at Viktor, mind lagging behind. Viktor smiled, eyes soft, bangs just shy of brushing against Yuuri’s forehead.

“You took my breath away out there tonight. I thought I might return the favour.”

“Ah,” Yuuri said, shoulders relaxing, his lips pulling up into a smile of improbable fondness. “I see.”

For once in recent history, he felt like he really did.

A minute later, he promptly felt like he didn’t, as in standing he and Viktor realised the extent of the collateral damage behind such a simple action. The ice spreading out from their point of impact was hopelessly spiderwebbed with cracks. Per commentators it was a miracle Yuuri had been able to get through his skate without an incident. Per anyone sensitive to magic, it was simply a wonder it’d happened at all.


	11. one for the dogs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri and Viktor deal with a health scare before Yuuri's free skate, and Viktor has an unexpected late night encounter when they're back in Hasetsu.

The time between the end of the Cup of China in Beijing and the start of the Rostelecom Cup in Moscow flew past faster than Yuuri believed possible. One moment he was touching down in Fukuoka Airport on his return from China, and the next he was flying back out with Viktor heading for Moscow. It was a much longer trip, but the flight to China had prepared him for it, though by the time they were disembarking both of them were ready to nap.

Everything felt more hectic and more familiar than last time, from hustling onto the transportation arranged, to checking in at the hotel, to finally letting Viktor out of his carrier in the hotel room after being yelled at for his lack of collar in the lobby. 

“We should do something about that,” Viktor said, tone mild as he stretched, breaking into an impressive yawn. “Looks like not everyone’s okay with the bandana or the velcro jacket with service animal written on it.”

Yuuri nodded, but his mind wasn’t on what Viktor was saying. Timetables and reminders about press interviews and practice schedules and the rest left him distracted. When he went downstairs to pick up extra towels from the front desk, wanting an excuse for movement, he also near ran into several of his fellow skaters at the lifts. He didn’t have any of those people he’d call friends here, unlike at the Cup of China, and whatever pseudo-argument that Michele Crispino was already in with Emil Nekola over Michele’s sister, Sara, sent Yuuri sliding away to the second lift that arrived in the lobby. Choosing not to engage was better for his head all around.

As the doors started closing, a leopard-print covered red shoe shoved in to stop their progress. Yuri Plisetsky stepped in with an expression akin to that of someone who’d bitten into sour candy when expecting it to be sweet.

“Katsuki.”

“Hello, Yuri.” He smiled, polite. While he hadn’t spoken much with Yuri Plisetsky in his calls to Viktor, he’d still been there, on hand in case Viktor required greater dexterity than what he could provide on his own. Yuri was young, entering the senior’s scene at an age even younger than Viktor, but Yuuri figured to an extent that had to do with differing birthdates. Viktor was born late enough in the year he needed to debut at sixteen; Yuri was born early enough in the year he _could_ debut at fifteen. Which, to no apparent surprise, was exactly what he’d managed to get Yakov to agree he should do.

“I’m here to win,” Yuri said, frowning as he stared at the lift doors. “Not to make friends. Just so we’re clear.”

It wasn’t a point Yuuri knew needed clarifying, so he simply said, “Ah.” Sure enough, Yuri continued, glancing toward Yuuri.

“How’s that idiot doing?”

“Viktor?”

“What other idiot could I be talking about?” Yuri grumbled, scuffing his foot against the floor.

So much bluster, for such simple things. “It’s better to ask him yourself. You should have plenty of opportunity tomorrow, or if you want you can stop by and see him yourself right now.”

“No.” The reply was instantaneous. “I’ll ask him tomorrow. If I feel like it.” Yuri hunched his shoulders, still frowning at the doors. He fell silent as the lift slowed, turning to square off against Yuuri when the doors began to open on his floor. 

“I’m here to win gold, Katsuki. I’m going to qualify for the Grand Prix Final.”

He said it like a challenge and accusation rolled into one. Yuuri found himself smiling; Yuri could say these thing that had taken Yuuri years to vocalise so easily, and so young. How much of that confidence did he feel bone deep, and how much of it was for show? He couldn’t remember how it’d been for him when he was fifteen, not that outspoken overconfidence had ever been his failing.

“If any of us weren’t, I’d wonder what we were doing here at all. Good luck, Yuri. See you tomorrow.”

He waved as Yuri humphed and stalked off, almost slamming into the closing doors. Only the quick action of shoving his foot forward kept them from sealing, and without another word, Yuri was out and gone. 

Yuuri rode up another two floors on his own. When he mentioned offhand to Viktor that his former rink-mate had been asking after him, Viktor huffed out a laugh and said Yuri was a nice young man at heart. One who he hoped had tightened up his footwork like he’d been telling him to do last year, or he was going to be in for a nasty surprise when Yuuri took the ice tomorrow. 

Later Yuuri struck out for food, keeping to an early night with Viktor, browsing Instagram photos on his timeline and letting Viktor quiz him on his schedule the next day.

There were no surprises leading up to the competition; Yuuri attended his scheduled practice, showed up as early as he and Viktor were meant to, checked in while Viktor also put in a word with the magical side of security. Since the disturbance at Cup of China, they were both being more careful.

He felt oddly okay with the idea of facing down another shade, even one so monstrous as had appeared in Beijing. It could be misplaced confidence, with how his transformed costume there matched the one he now wore in preparation for skating his short program, but he didn’t feel that was the case. More like as he’d faced bigger hurdles, he found he was facing down parts of himself, too. 

Those thoughts were all shoved aside when he stood at the boards, listening to the crowd call out Viktor’s name like they did in prior years when he’d been skating. Viktor responded as Yuuri knew he would, a broad smile on his face and arm up and waving to the chanting crowd, seemingly oblivious to the matter at hand.

Russia was Viktor’s home, just as Japan was Yuuri’s home. If anywhere in the world felt like Viktor had been taken from them, it would be Russia.

Yuuri had no intention of simply giving him back. Not when Viktor had come to him first.

He reached out and wrapped his fingers around Viktor’s tie, pulling him close while that knowledge hummed in his veins. His eyes flicked over Viktor’s face as he leaned in, close enough to feel his heat. “My performance has already started.”

Yuuri heard the smile in Viktor’s voice, near to shivering as he registered the lower tone. “I know.” It sounded like a promise.

“Make sure you’re watching. I’m going to show all of Russia my love.” He let go, pushing off with one foot to arc over the ice toward his starting position, cheeks red. Embarrassed as he was by his own boldness, if ever there was a time for it, it was now.

Yuuri fell into his beginning pose, and as the music started, so did he.

* * *

Of all the things he expected that evening, learning Moscow had on-call veterinarians who’d perform home visits at hotels was not one of them. He wasn’t even sure what the hell had happened, which was part of the problem. It started when Viktor begged off going out to eat, though they could afford the magic artifacts it would take to do so. Viktor was moving slowly when they returned to the room. He’d stripped down and sat on the floor, and when he was back in poodle form, only moved to crawl toward the bathroom. When he started retching, Yuuri was at a loss for what to do.

Yuuri had no idea how to handle a vomiting dog in a foreign country, let alone one that asked in a pitious voice if he could have a blanket on the bathroom floor. Which was where Viktor remained while Yuuri steadily fretted himself into a nervous mess before pulling together and asking for the front desk to patch him through to Yakov Feltsman’s room.

Luck was with him: Yakov was in. While his English was more heavily accented than Viktor’s, he was more than fluent enough after a lifetime dealing with international competitions. He was at their room within fifteen minutes, knocking perfunctorily on the door and scowling when Yuuri answered.

“Where is he?”

Yuri Plisetsky tagged along, going from vaguely curious, to studiously involved with his phone, to peering past with a frown each time they emerged from the bathroom. By the time the veterinarian arrived, Yuri’s concern had him pestering Yuuri about Viktor’s activities earlier in the day.

“He ate something he shouldn’t have, didn’t he?”

“More like he has a flu, by her guess.” The veterinarian, thin featured with a steady kindness about her, stepped back into the room, conversing with Yakov. She had some English, but apologised that it wouldn’t be enough to keep Yuuri informed. Yakov was acting as their interpreter, and a more line faced, serious one Yuuri had rarely met.

“Yuuri. Vitya asked that I oversee you through tomorrow’s competition.”

A startled sound of protest flew out of Yuri’s throat from where he sat on the lounge chair, Yuuri himself choking back a similar sound.

Yakov looked tired, narrowing his eyes once and glancing Yuri’s direction before returning his attention to Yuuri. “Dr. Vladimirovna wants to take Vitya back to her clinic so she can monitor his progress for the next day, maybe two. He’s very small. He becomes dehydrated throwing up this much.”

If Yakov meant to be reassuring, he was having the opposite effect.

“Is he going to be okay?” Yuuri could call off competing, he would go with Viktor to the vet clinic and then… and then be kicked out, because people weren’t allowed to stay overnight at veterinary offices, though maybe if he bribed someone...

“Yes.” Yakov’s answer interrupted Yuuri’s thoughts, his tone of voice brooking no room for argument. “He goes with Dr. Vladimirovna, he’s fine. I oversee you showing up to practice and competition, you’re fine. After all’s done, he will come back, you will see him, and you both fly to Japan. _Everything is fine._ ”

For a moment, Yuuri could almost envision flames surrounding all of them, steadily licking higher, smoke forming choking clouds overhead. He shook off the mental image, literally and figuratively, curbing his thoughts so that they didn’t start spiraling faster than they already were.

“Okay,” he said, heels of his hands pressed against his temples. “Okay, that makes sense. Can I talk with him before she…?”

Yakov grunted, making a short gesture over his shoulder toward the bathroom. He started speaking with Dr. Vladimirovna in his first language, the sound of his voice a low, rolling growl that was surprisingly melodic.

Yuuri slipped into the bathroom and went onto his knees, reaching out to rest a hand on Viktor’s head. Discharge from his eyes and nose painted him in a terrible light, and he’d started wheezing notably. When his eyes opened, they were fever bright, focusing on Yuuri.

“Sorry,” he said in a murmur, taking another wheezing breath and bubbling snot out of his nose. “I didn’t plan on getting sick.”

“Hey, it’s okay. Who does?” Yuuri stroked his fingers over Viktor’s forehead, back around his ears. “Just focus on feeling better. Should I look into doggie travel masks?”

A wheezing laugh met his remark. “Maybe.” 

Yuuri tried to smile, but as Viktor’s eyes closed again, the effort was stillborn on his lips. He hadn’t rallied himself to say anything else before Viktor did.

“Hug Yakov if you need to. He’s good for hugs. Very steady.”

That made Yuuri crack a smile, albeit one that had him feeling closer to tears. He swallowed past a lump in his throat. “Okay.” No promise that he would—Yakov was intimidating—but he appreciated Viktor’s looking out for him. 

“Show them a beautiful skate, Yuuri. I know you will.” Viktor lifted his head, cracking his eyes open again. “If I’m not there where you can see, I’m still there with you.” He pulled a paw out from under him, stretching for Yuuri. He managed to just reach his leg and pressed his toes down against Yuuri’s knee.

“In my knee?” He patted Viktor’s toes with his free hand.

Viktor’s tail thumped against the blanket. “ _Yuuri._ In your heart.”

He unconsciously moved his hand to his chest, clutching at his shirt, lips pulling up into a faint smile. “Right, I knew that. Still isn’t better than having you there with me.”

Their murmured conversation ended as Dr. Vladimirovna stepped back into the bathroom. Viktor was bundled up and carried out, Yakov handling the details, Yuuri fluttering after until he was firmly told to go back to his room.

Yuri Plisetsky sat in the lounge chair, straightening up as Yuuri came back through the door.

“Go to bed.” Pushing to his feet, Yuri huffed, shoving his phone and hands into his jacket pockets. “When I kick your ass I don’t want it to be because you’re feeling so sorry for yourself you couldn’t skate.”

He was a blunt young man, but Yuuri preferred that in the moment. “Thanks, Yuri. It’ll be okay.”

Yuri paused by the door, one foot shoved into his shoe. “Obviously it’s going to be okay. That old man wouldn’t let a cold kill him.” He shot a fierce look over his shoulder, shoving his other foot into its shoe. “So don’t bite it on the ice, either!” He yanked open the door, slipped outside, and let it slam closed behind him.

Yuuri stared after him, wondering if Yuri had been wanting to reassure Yuuri, or reassure himself.

* * *

It wasn’t his best skate. It also wasn’t his worst. When Yuuri half listened to Yakov in the kiss and cry, even turning to him to say thank you and sorry at once while enfolding him in a hug that caught them both off guard, his mind was already far away. 

“Have you heard from the doctor?”

Yakov grimaced, glancing at Yuuri askance before looking away with a heavy sigh. “Vitya does better now than last night. No vomiting, more coughing. They will give medicine for the cough, but it means he rests.”

Worst case scenarios swirled through Yuuri’s head as he said his thanks, lingering in the back room where the press couldn’t quite reach. He needed to make statements soon, because he always would need to speak, even if just to wish everyone well. With the final results in, he hadn’t made the podium, and he wasn’t surprised. His performance wasn’t strong enough.

He was still going to the Grand Prix Finals. His silver earned him more points over Michele Crispino with his bronze, and so it was that Yuuri would go to the GPF for the second year running, while Michele didn’t have the chance. Yuuri didn’t have it in him to feel anything other than distant acceptance and a heavily muted pleasure. Worry was overpowering everything.

He ran into Sara and Michele backstage after his quick interview with the press, his mind already far away. He registered Sara’s congratulations, heartfelt and genuine in spite of the element that might have been teasing her brother for his near-miss of the event. She held open her arms, and Yuuri moved, responding automatically to the gesture. He hugged Sara, moving on auto-pilot; thankful in some far off way that she was wishing him well.

Then there was Michele, who looked so aggrieved, and Yuuri hugged him too; apologetic without being apologetic for placing in the Grand Prix Final. Michele didn’t take the expression of pity well, letting out a surprised shout while going stock still. Most his weight ended up in Yuuri’s arms as he played dead as Emil Nikola rounded the corner down the hall, calling out for Mickey.

Emil looked so genuinely concerned, Yuuri felt bad, in a vague, automatic way. Leaving Michele to sort himself out, Yuuri turned and bridged the gap between himself and Emil, likewise enfolding him in a hug. Unlike Mickey, Emil went stiff and then laughed, hugging Yuuri back.

It was the best hug he’d had yet tonight, but still wasn’t quite _right_. He didn’t try pinning down why. Seung-Gil Lee caught his eye, and Yuuri was already moving, remembering his tears of frustration after seeing his GPF dream dissolve on the scoreboard. He was an excellent skater; Yuuri hugged him, too, feeling some kinship between bad skates and big dreams to chase after. PyeongChang wasn’t that far off, relatively speaking. Seung-Gil must want to be a strong contender for gold by the time his nation hosted the Winter Olympics.

Which was a chance that Jean-Jacques Leroy would never have. Yuuri spied him walking down the hall carrying his podium bouquet, reward for his strong technical skills melding with a sense of innate showmanship and no small amount of confidence. The Vancouver Winter Olympics happened when JJ was younger. He couldn’t retroactively attend, but he could look forward to facing everyone’s challenge head-on at the GPF.

Yuri Plisetsky took one look at Yuuri embracing JJ and started running the opposite direction. He’d been so kind the night before, in a teenager way. Yuuri found himself chasing after him without thinking, wanting to repay some of that kindness in turn as an expression of gratitude and congratulations. He only caught him because Yuri pulled up short to avoid running down a staff member, and then Yuri too was caught in a temporary embrace.

“Congratulations, Yuri,” he said, letting go and patting him absently on the shoulder, moving past him down the hall. He still had that itch, the need for contact. Maybe he could track Yakov down again? Or he could head back to his bag and head toward the transit responsible for getting him back to the hotel. He wasn’t going to feel any more put together in his current state.

He remained oblivious to the way the other top skaters stared after him in befuddlement, wondering if hitting their mid-twenties was likewise going to turn them into the shambling hug-starved dead whenever they scraped by at a competition. 

The itch didn’t fully leave after a night of restless sleep, either. Yuuri tossed and turned, waking up and expecting Viktor to be there. He wasn’t, and it only made Yuuri feel worse.

He didn’t have time to dwell on it. He hadn’t made the podium, but he’d been invited to skate in the Exhibition Gala anyway, which meant more practice, learning the finale choreography, and being busy enough that he didn’t fret the entire day waiting for news from Yakov about Viktor. It was a mixed blessing all around.

He focused enough to pick up on the choreography from watching everyone else, finding half of what the choreographer said flew in one ear and right out the other. It was simple to pick up on as they were run through the full choreography twice, then dismissed back off the ice while the second half of the exhibition gala skaters stayed on to practice.

He had to get through the day and the part of the banquet he needed to attend, and then Viktor would be back. Yakov said the veterinarian clinic had a shuttle that planned to bring Viktor by in the early evening. His course of medication would be coming along with him, as well as a signed note authorizing him to fly back to Japan. 

Most the exhibition gala passed in a blur of light and sound. Yuuri was on the ice, then off the ice, then on the ice and queuing up to music he’d dreamed to for years. Yuuri’s rendition of _Stammi vicino_ wasn’t at the full difficulty that Viktor had skated it two, three seasons prior. Yet in Viktor’s words, it was more emotional, more aching than anything Viktor had skated. The technical elements didn’t need to be breaking records. Yuuri’s musicality, the way he moved on the ice, made it captivating to watch.

He felt the music more keenly that night than he had in months. A lamentation for a lover lost? Or for the desire to be loved, to deny love after love was cruelly ripped away? Loss and fear. Those were emotions he could easily identify. Everything else slipped away between his fingers when he tried to pin them down.

Tears were in his eyes when he finished, lips twitching into an automatic smile for the crowd that he didn’t feel. He appreciated them and their enthusiasm from a remove. His heart was elsewhere, his mind full of worries he barely kept from spiraling unchecked.

_He’s fine. I’ll see him tonight. We’re flying home tomorrow._

He didn’t hit the champagne as hard as he wanted to when he dressed without Viktor’s running commentary and hauled himself down to the banquet alone. Walking in felt awkward, the press felt stifling even when they were being respectful, the food tasted bland in his mouth. His relief came from an unlikely source: Georgi, who was allowed in with Mila and Yuri and Yakov. 

“Your performance was incredible,” he said when he sat next to Yuuri, co-opting an open chair and fixing Yuuri with an intense look. “The emotion behind your exhibition piece had me in tears. I know how Viktor skates that program, and I remember how hard he worked on it. Seeing what you’ve done working together…”

Georgi pressed a palm flat over his breastbone, a light blush dusting his cheeks and nose. His smile was beautiful, his eyes almost uncomfortably expressive. “I can feel your love for each other.”

Yuuri almost choked on his water. He spat it back into his glass, coughing after, Georgi sitting back in concern.

“Yuuri?”

He waved his hand, needing a moment to speak. “It’s not—I mean, I don’t—It’s not like that!”

Georgi raised his eyebrows, resting his elbow on the table. “Oh?”

“We’re not _like_ that.”

“In love?”

Yuuri glanced around, shoulders hunching up. No one appeared to be paying attention. He drew in a steadying breath, making himself relax.

“I know how I feel. I don’t presume to say how Viktor feels.”

“Have you asked?”

“What?”

“Have you asked Viktor how he feels about you.”

“Of course! I think.”

Georgi’s eyebrows slowly climbed upward all over again. “You don’t know?”

“It’s complicated.” He caught sight of movement heading their way, jerking his head up to see Yakov rounding a nearby table. 

“Life’s complicated. Love’s only as complicated as you make it.” Georgi glanced backward, looking the same way as Yuuri. He smiled, lifting a hand to Yakov as his coach joined them where they say.

“Yakov! Here to collect me or collect Yuuri?”

“Gosha! I thought you were here to support Yura?”

Georgi inclined his head forward.

“Then go, support Yura! A Moscow blog wants a photograph of all three of you looking ahead to Nationals.” Yakov tipped his head to one side, jerking his chin in the same direction. 

Georgi stood in a smooth motion, giving Yuuri one last, knowing look. “Ask him,” he said, stepping around Yakov and starting across the room to where Yuri and Mila stood talking with two members of the press, Mila animated, Yuri irritated. 

Yakov watched Georgi go, turning his attention back to Yuuri when his student was out of earshot. “Viktor will arrive soon. Go upstairs, get things ready. I’ll bring him to you.”

Yuuri shot up out of his seat, nodding and murmuring a thank you as he wound his way through the crowd. If anyone called out to him, he didn’t hear, fixing a polite smile on his face and repeating formless apologies as he made for the doors. Once in the hall beyond, he picked up speed, working his tie loose and feeling like he could breathe for the first time that night. 

The lift took ages to arrive, bearing him up while he finished pulling off his tie. He tucked it into one jacket pocket as he left through the opening doors, turning on heel and trying not to run down carpeted halls toward where his empty, silent room lay waiting.

Once there, Yuuri slipped out of his shoes, shuffling to the bed to pull off his socks. He tucked those away in his suitcase, hanging up his suit jacket next to Viktor's, unused since that first day. He paused to run his fingers along the lapels, catching the fabric between his fingers.

He leaned forward, breathing in the mixed scents of Viktor’s shampoo and bodywash. It was always different from how he smelled as a dog, where the oils were stronger, and that dog-scent pervaded everything except when he was fresh out of the bath. 

A knock at his door sent him jerking back, eyes wide, heart hammering. _Viktor_ , he thought, and he made himself speak. “Coming! Be right there.”

He pulled the door wide open, eyes fixed on the ground. Viktor smiled up at him, tail wagging fast and furious, bounding forward even as Yuuri went down on his knees.

“Yuuri!”

“Viktor!”

It hit him in a rush that Viktor was okay. He was here and not dying in a veterinary office half a world away, alone, sick, maybe even scared. His relief was sharp and poignant, overflowing his chest, magic following along after. Viktor had no sooner thrown himself toward Yuuri than he was transforming from silver toy poodle into adult man, Yuuri rising to his knees to catch him up and drag him to his chest regardless. Viktor’s arms looped around his neck, and they stayed like that, clinging to each other, Yuuri’s fingers digging into the bare skin of Viktor’s back.

“I’m so proud of you,” Viktor said, Yuuri near-sobbing as he held him tighter. The itch under his skin for the last two days faded away as Yuuri found himself back in Viktor’s arms.

“You’re okay,” he said, eyes squeezed shut to stave off the heat of tears threatening to fall. “You’re here, and you’re okay.”

“Yeah, I am. Right here with you.”

The weight of a terry cloth robe dropping over his arms and across Viktor’s back snapped Yuuri’s eyes open. He looked up in confusion to see Yakov’s strained expression.

“I suggest you take that here _inside_ your room, Vitya. Yuuri, his medicine bag is behind you.”

Yakov grunted and waved off Yuuri’s apology, taking his leave once they were out of the doorway. Viktor laughed, breaking into a dry cough. Yuuri helped him to his feet and over to the bed. 

“What do you need? Water? Medicine? Is that people medicine, or just dog medicine?”

“You, later, yes, just dog medicine.” The robe pooled in Viktor’s lap, fabric belt left untied. He held out his arms, inviting Yuuri close, expression hopeful.

Yuuri stepped forward into the circle of his arms, stroking his fingers through his hair as Viktor pressed his face into his sternum. “Bed?”

Viktor nodded, and Yuuri smiled, feeling his heart welling up in his throat.

“Okay.” 

He curled up next to Viktor, face to face, knees touching, and held his hands until his curse caught up, leaving Yuuri with a sad, coughing poodle, and a life more precious than his own cradled against his chest.

* * *

Their first night back in Hasetsu saw both of them too exhausted to do more than pass out in bed, then wake up in the morning and plan their training schedules out until leaving for the Grand Prix Final. The second night, Viktor found he couldn’t sleep, waking up out of formless nightmares to sit by Yuuri’s side. He was close to giving up on sleeping at all, not sure if it was his persistent upper respiratory infection or some unaddressed stress keeping him from sleeping the night through.

He sighed, standing and circling around to resituate himself by Yuuri. By the third rotation, a smudge of light in the shadows at the foot of Yuuri’s bed gave Viktor pause. No shade, but something else entirely, radiating intense feelings of love.

Viktor sat still staring at the light gaining form. Translucent, a toy poodle slowly emerged, fur darker than Viktor’s, eyes filled with stars.

Viktor never met Vicchan, but as he observed the spirit sitting at the foot of Yuuri’s childhood bed, there was no question in his mind who he saw. Vicchan’s spirit stepped forward, leaving no impression on the blankets as he nosed at Yuuri’s feet, encased in the comforter. His tongue lolled out of his mouth, body relaxed, tail wagging as he looked to Yuuri. With a soft whine, Vicchan walked up the length of the bed toward Viktor, all the while keeping his eyes on Yuuri’s sleeping form.

Vicchan’s love was joyful and total; an underlying current of loyalty that Viktor understood without words. Vicchan needed none. He was comprised of nothing but the memory and living knowledge of how he felt for Yuuri and everyone else in the Katsuki household. There was a touch of magic to him, reflected in his eyes. Sirius the dog star stared back from the depths of them, the constellation Canis Major glinting in their dark.

Vicchan stood by Viktor, looking away from Yuuri for long enough to regard him with that star-filled gaze. Viktor felt the brush of Yuuri’s magic, watched the way Vicchan’s eyes glowed brighter as the magic flowed. 

He didn’t know how long he and the spirit observed each other, only that at some point Vicchan leaned forward and licked Viktor’s nose, giving him a single wag of approval. Then he nudged at Viktor, waiting for him to lie down before curling up with him. Vicchan settled his chin on Yuuri’s side, his eyes closing as the warmth of his love spread from him through the room.

Viktor watched him fade in degrees, his outline losing form, the light gradually dimming until only a few burning points remained. Then those faded too. In the dark that stole back in after, everything was peaceful, the warmth lingering. Viktor’s eyes drew closed in spite of themselves, and as he sunk back into a sleep where dreams could not reach him, he heard a joyous bark and the answering laughter of a child.

Precious memories Vicchan held for a lifetime and continued to hold wherever he was now. 


	12. listen to the rhythm of your heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri and Viktor are at the Grand Prix Final, and Yuuri faces his biggest challenges yet.

Time flew past, the headlong rush into the Grand Prix Final consuming all their energy. Their encounters with shades were few and far between, mostly benign things that watched or waved from the corners of streets and restaurants when they were passing through. Yuuri didn’t trust it, but he didn’t waste time worrying. What would come would come. They’d handle it together. Yuuri kept most of his focus on training and eating right for the Grand Prix Final. 

Viktor was fully recovered from his illness by the time they stepped onto the airplane to Barcelona. Yuuri followed through on his passing threat from Russia, which meant Viktor had a dog mask fitted over his muzzle and banded around the back of his head when they embarked. Viktor said he hadn’t known people actually _made_ face masks for dogs. Now he and Yuuri wore matching white ones, albeit of different designs.

Yuuri’s first practice session was the day before the men’s short programs. Few members of the press were in attendance, which suited him fine. Nothing much of note happened, and soon enough, his practice group was called off so the rink could be resurfaced for the next group.

“What do you want to do for the rest of the day?”

Yuuri braced one hand on Viktor’s shoulder as he slipped his skate guards on. “Hm,” he said, glancing at Viktor’s face with a smile as he stood on both covered skates. “I was kind of thinking sightseeing.”

Viktor blinked and smiled, canting his head to the side. “With Vitya?”

Yuuri inclined his head forward, smile softening. “I thought we could meet up to look at the Christmas Market tonight, then find somewhere to eat dinner.”

“Sounds good to me. I have a few recommendations for places to go, if you want them.”

“Please,” Yuuri said, walking with Viktor toward the changing rooms.

* * *

Not terribly long after they made it back to the hotel, Viktor stripped down and banded a flower bow into his bangs. With the last of the artifacts he’d used that morning wearing off, Viktor relaxed into the painful flow of magic that transformed him into a silver haired toy poodle. It was expedient to have him in this form, and saved him from unnecessary exhaustion. He wished it was otherwise. Getting to go sightseeing with Yuuri as himself would have been wonderful. They could have gone shopping, found Yuuri a more flattering suit. 

Instead Viktor took Yuuri to the outdoor sights he visited when last in Barcelona, skipping out on the gardens that required tickets and nudging them along toward the delicious foods he smelled cooking from the streets. They had lunch on the balcony of a lovely second floor cafe, Viktor fed tidbits from Yuuri’s hand and served his own bowl of water on request.

The skies were painted in vivid corals and golds and reds by the time they were back at the hotel. Viktor transformed and hopped into the shower while Yuuri took a moment to relax and unwind.

Feeling refreshed, Viktor popped back out of the bathroom with another hair tie around his wrist, artifact already draining to grant him the magic to hold his true form. He hadn’t bothered pulling on a robe, just leaving the towel draped around his neck to catch errant drips from his hair as he dressed with purposeful efficiency. When he turned back around, now in undergarments, trousers, and a t-shirt, he found Yuuri with his hands pressed against his eyes, still lying in bed.

“How are you feeling?” Concern lanced through his chest as he moved to the bed, reaching out to touch Yuuri’s arm. “Headache?”

“Are you decent?”

Viktor raised his eyebrow. “For the most part I’d like to think so, yes.”

Yuuri spread his fingers to peer out from between them. The tips of his ears reddened, but otherwise he looked fine. “I’m okay, sorry. I was having a moment.” Yuuri pulled his hands away from his face, sitting up fast enough Viktor almost didn’t see his blush. “Ready to head out?”

Viktor stared at the back of Yuuri’s head, concern turning into muted pleased amusement. “Let me get my socks on and grab my sweater, then yes. Did you have anywhere you wanted to eat in particular, or are we figuring that out as we go?”

Yuuri pushed off his bed and headed for the closet, grabbing out his coat. “I thought we’d see what caught our attention.”

“Got it.” Viktor pulled on his socks, stretching as he stood. He needed to drain another one of the hair tie artifacts, picking up the lot of them and sliding them over his hand to nestle one after another on his forearm. They’d stay hidden under his sweater like that. “I’m sure whatever we decide on will be great.”

Back out on the streets walking side by side with Yuuri, Viktor had a hard time deciding between watching the world around them and watching Yuuri. The colours were mesmerising, each stall and store decorated in lights and holiday ornaments and displays. He hadn’t spent time simply existing outside of a competition center while in his true form. It wasn’t practical, but he realised how much he missed the luxury of walking where he would in good company. 

He convinced Yuuri to stop by one of the mulled cider stands, cradling a cup of warmed wine as they made their way through the market. He enjoyed the indulgence, the spices added to the wine a nice pairing with the warmth it spread from inside. He so rarely drank when in his true form that he found himself savouring each sip.

“Your birthday’s coming up soon, isn’t it?”

Viktor glanced over to Yuuri, lowering his cup. “Ah, yes. We’re already in December.” There was no snow in Barcelona, but he could imagine what it looked like right now in Saint Petersburg. It’d been snowing before they left Hasetsu, but a bare dusting of the ground didn’t register as significant. 

“Is there anything you want?”

“Right now?”

“Mm.” Yuuri nodded, lips turned up in a soft smile as he studied Viktor’s face.

“We don’t really celebrate birthdays early. Depending on the year, I’m usually too busy to celebrate at all.”

“Oh.” Yuuri glanced down, then away, brow furrowing. 

They lapsed into silence, Yuuri’s eyes scanning the storefronts they passed under the strings of hanging holiday lights. The bustle of the crowd around them was a pleasant sort of background noise; every so often, he caught sight of a shade slipping further into shadow, but nothing approached. They were left to themselves.

Viktor appreciated the relative quiet, allowing his attention to return to Yuuri, taking in all the small details about him as he searched the market. He tried to guess at what it was Yuuri was trying to find, but he didn’t really know. He wasn’t sure if Yuuri celebrated Christmas, though it occurred to him he might want to figure that out. 

Yuuri paused abruptly, eyes widening as he jerked himself back with a gasp, a blush rising to his cheeks. Viktor found it fascinating as he also came to a stop, loving the way Yuuri’s eyes sparkled with sudden understanding and pointed purpose. He had no idea why, but it wouldn’t be long before he’d learn. This wasn’t Yuuri being secretive. This was Yuuri on the brink of excitement.

“Viktor,” Yuuri said, starting forward at a jog. He stopped in front of a store window, hands on the sill, nose almost touching the glass. He whipped his head around, fixing Viktor with an intense stare. “Can we go in here?”

“Of course,” he said, eyes flicking to the words enlaid on glass as they walked inside. Maria Dolores was one of the many jewelry stores found scattered around this part of the city; his eyes latched onto a particularly beautiful set of engraved dog tags sitting in the window display.

He sincerely hoped that wasn’t what caught Yuuri’s attention. Most likely he was considering some gift for his family, since as far as he knew Yuuri himself didn’t have any particular leanings toward jewelry. He still felt a disconnected sort of confusion as Yuuri strode toward the counter, setting his hands down on the top glass and staring straight down at the collection of jewelry on display.

His confusion grew more personal as Yuuri asked for, “Those two, right there.” The only paired jewelry in the display case he stood in front of were rings; everything else was a singular piece, albeit shown in several variations and metals.

Rings. Gold rings. Yuuri was buying two gold rings.

Viktor watched dumbstruck as Yuuri had the clerk tally his total, then set down his credit card and asked for everything to be charged while blushing as he had when he first sighted the store. He signed the receipt, waved off a bag in favour of taking both rings in hand and shoving them into his pocket.

“Let’s go,” Yuuri said, taking hold of Viktor’s hand and pulling him along out into the streets, pausing to lift his head and orient himself to some mysterious purpose. Viktor still had no idea what to say. What was going on?

Yuuri started moving again, Viktor going along without protest, wanting to see where this would end. Afraid in one sense of what the rings _weren’t_. Afraid in another sense of what he might assume they _were_.

Yuuri only slowed down as they wound through the stalls set up in the streets before the Barcelona Cathedral, switching directions to head toward the choir singing near the steps of the lit-up church. Its gates were closed, but that didn’t seem to deter Yuuri. He marched resolutely up the stairs, hesitating once they were at the top. He turned toward Viktor, looking him in the face, then away again. He jammed his hand into his pocket, pulling out the rings.

Viktor felt Yuuri’s magic between them, reminded of how Yuuri’s magic had felt when Viktor first arrived in Hasetsu. Unlike then, he could feel the brush of a contained, focused magic against his own, restrained in a way Yuuri hadn’t managed before Viktor came trotting into his life. 

He sensed Yuuri working his magic into the rings much the same way as he charged the hair ties, storing his magic for Viktor to use later on. Only how he wove his magic into the rings tied them together in a way Viktor hadn’t seen before. 

As the touch of his magic surged, Yuuri lifted his chin, face flushed, lips parted, eyes unsure. “I’ve been trying to think of a way to say thank you,” he said, fingers folding over the rings. His magic coiled tight around them, fierce now in its warmth. “A way to show you how much you’ve done for me, and how grateful I am for all of it.”

His fingers unfurled, revealing the rings again, his magic receding. Unbidden, Viktor held up his right hand, watching without speaking as Yuuri carefully pulled off his glove. Once his hand was bared, Yuuri swallowed. His hand trembled, but as he tucked one ring into his palm, he brought the other one up to slide onto Viktor’s finger.

“Thank you for everything you’ve done for me, Viktor.” The gold ring cleared his joints, settling near the base. Yuuri drew back his hand, fingers curling in on themselves. His other hand held Viktor’s, a point of contact thrumming through his awareness. “Thank you for helping me remember how to not be afraid of the dark, and for believing in me, both on and off the ice.”

Yuuri swallowed hard, eyes flicking up to Viktor’s face, then away. “Do you…” He licked his lips. “Do you have any advice for tomorrow?”

The abrupt shift in topic caught Viktor by surprise, until he could see the logic behind it. Yuuri saying thank you for everything Viktor’s done for him tied into skating and his magic; tomorrow was the start of the skates deciding if Yuuri made the podium or not. There was an uncertain edge to Yuuri’s gaze, his chin tucked in enough to show hesitance, a brilliant blush spreading red over his cheeks and nose and tips of his ears. Viktor squeezed Yuuri’s hand, turning his palm up. A heartbeat passed before Yuuri set the second ring there.

Viktor smiled, thumb stroking over gold. He felt the warmth of Yuuri’s magic throughout it, calling on some of his own that he could hardly afford to lose and sending it swirling through, too. Not much, but Yuuri should feel it nonetheless. He reached for Yuuri’s right hand, already bare, carefully sliding the ring on as he spoke. “When you go out there, skate the way you like best. You’re the only one in the world who can.”

Yuuri’s smile dawned like the sun, a happiness that had him standing straighter, eyes bright and sparkling with emotion. They stood staring into each other’s eyes within arm’s reach, not moving closer. Viktor shifted first, lifting his hand to stare at the gold band around his finger in quiet awe. “It’s too bad I can’t wear this all the time.”

Yuuri jolted at his words, eyes wide. “Oh no! I’m sorry, I didn’t even think—Viktor, stay right here. Don’t move! I’ll fix this!” Yuuri bolted down the stairs without another word.

Viktor breathed out in a fond, exasperated sigh. He took off after Yuuri, catching up with him in the crowd. He looped his arm across his shoulders, pulling him in a sideways hug to forestall his running progress. “Yuuri, Yuuri!” Viktor laughed, pressing their heads together. “There’s no need to run. We can do this together, can’t we?”

Flushed as he was, Yuuri blushed darker, giving Viktor a small, embarrassed smile. He was breathing hard from his brief sprint, but no harder than Viktor, who felt more awake in the aftermath with adrenaline coursing through his system. “Yeah,” Yuuri said, “I guess that would make sense.”

“Yes, it would. So what were you thinking? A necklace chain?”

“Either that or a collar.”

Viktor was shocked into silence, Yuuri managing a straight face for their next two steps. When he started laughing, Viktor found himself opening his mouth to say anything, and finding no words would come. He could only laugh along, shaking his head and pulling Yuuri closer.

“Yuuri! You’re terrible. Let’s find a chain at one of these jewelry stores and then go get dinner. Sound good?”

Yuuri’s arm looped around Viktor’s chest as he slotted himself more comfortably against his side. “Nothing sounds better in the world.”

* * *

There were questions about the rings, but neither of them answered, only smiling and allowing people to make of them what they would. Good luck charms seemed the most likely thing with no other announcements, or at least the most polite presumption in a sport well known for such things. When Viktor and Yuuri both kissed theirs when Yuuri took his position on the ice, it seemed like further confirmation. Yuuri Katsuki’s first known good luck charm, added to the collective of necklaces and the like worn by other competitors.

He skated his short program well, but not clean, his disappointment in himself over that failure so overwhelming that he sunk down to his knees on the ice in his exhausted frustration. Yuuri felt the echo of his feelings across the rink, sticking in the shadowy places of the event center, but unlike last year, his thoughts didn’t start spiraling. He stood up and skated to the kiss and cry, sat next to Viktor, and resolved to do more. He couldn’t just skate his free program cleanly. He had to skate it better than he ever had before.

Watching the rest of his competitors was both motivating and heartbreaking. He saw Jean-Jacques break down on the ice, his short program riddled with mistakes and downgrades in execution. He still finished; he still responded to the cries and chanting of the crowd who supported him by lifting his head and striking his characteristic pose while in the kiss and cry. “It’s JJ Style!”

Yuuri didn’t understand that in particular, but the courage it took to stand tall after giving the worst performance of one’s time in the senior’s division? He admired that, feeling like JJ had found himself in the same place Yuuri did last year. Unlike Yuuri back then, he hoped JJ would rally for his free skate. 

Viktor was blunt analysis and blunt praise that night in the hotel as Yuuri indulged his desire to bathe by drawing the bath and lathering him up. In the aftermath of the blow-drying session that followed, Viktor lounged on the bed, a fluffy, floral scented poodle. Yuuri sat propped up against the headboard, scrolling through his social media feeds, pausing with a soft snort of amusement when he caught sight of familiar face.

“Looks like Celestino is out drinking with Minako.”

“Hah! Is he going to survive?” Viktor’s ears perked forward. “Did Minako still want to do dinner tomorrow after the free skate?”

“Yeah, her and Mari.”

Viktor thumped his tail on the bed, lifting a paw and waving it in the air. “Good! I’m looking forward to it. I don’t think I’ve eaten out with either of them as myself.”

“You’ve eaten out with Mari like this?” Yuuri looked up from his phone, quirking his eyebrows as he regarded Viktor on the bed.

“I went along with her to the market on some of your rest day mornings. Delicious, fresh early morning food…” Viktor rolled onto his back, his paws tucked against his chest. He sighed, closing his eyes, his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. “The memory alone makes a man drool.”

Yuuri breathed out in a soft huff of laughter, setting his phone to charge on the side table. “Mari asked if we’d invite Yuri.”

Viktor turned his head until he had an eye on Yuuri. “I think we’d need to invite Otabek Altin too. Yura’s taken a shine to him based on what was trending on social media earlier.”

“Ah, so you saw that?”

“I read it over your shoulder.” Viktor extended both paws overhead, giving Yuuri a ridiculously cute look as he reached toward him. “Early bed tonight?”

Yuuri took hold of Viktor’s paws, shaking them like he used to with Vicchan. Viktor didn’t mind, pressing his paws up into Yuuri’s hands. “Not a bad idea.”

“It’s a great idea.” Viktor wagged his tail, moving his head to sloppily lick at Yuuri’s wrist. “Sleeping clothes on, lights off, and cuddle. Coach’s orders!”

“Oh, so cuddling’s now an order? From or for my coach?”

“It might be more of a _request_ than an order.”

“You’re requesting cuddles now?”

“I _like_ cuddles, so yes, yes I am. I even smell nice!” 

Yuuri snorted, letting go of his paws. “I know, I was the one helping you bathe.” He headed for his luggage, pulling off his shirt to find a clean one for sleeping.

“Then you need to come and collect on your hard work.” Viktor rolled to his belly, standing up to walk toward the pillows. He bit delicately into the covers, walking backward to peel them open for Yuuri. He waited while Yuuri turned off the lights, shuffling over to one narrow bed and crawling in after.

“Right, right. Do you remember if I set my alarm?” Yuuri pulled his blankets back over him, Viktor prancing across them to drape himself over Yuuri’s hip.

“You did. No need to be up early anyway, practice is later in the morning.” Viktor finished wiggling his way over Yuuri’s hip, flopping down next to his blanket-covered stomach. “Goodnight, Yuuri.”

Yuuri reached his hand down to ruffle the fur around Viktor’s neck, jostling the chain and ring that lay there. “Goodnight, Viktor.” He drifted off to the steady breathing of the man-turned-poodle by his side.

It was such a pleasant evening altogether that he would have been hard pressed to say why his dreams were filled with a consuming darkness he found increasingly difficult to escape. He woke early to Viktor’s nose pressed against his neck, announcing breakfast. There was an omelette, two orders of sausage, water, and toast courtesy of room service, and one of the sports drinks Yuuri preferred left at the foot of his bed, courtesy of Viktor. They ate, Viktor taking his time with the second order of sausage while Yuuri blearily blinked himself awake around mouthfuls of hot food.

Everyone was more intense and focused that practice session with the free skate looming in the evening. Since all the skaters and coaches were riding over on the bus provided for competitors, the mood was inescapable, almost stifling.

He felt better after warming up, but the mood crept back in as his endorphins wound down, pervading the center as a whole. Yuuri shivered, rubbing his arms through his jacket, familiar concerns creeping back in. What if Yuuri messed up his free skate? What if Viktor realised how badly he wanted to return to the ice, and that he couldn’t keep Yuuri on to do that? Which was logical, Yuuri supposed, but the idea of separation sat poorly on him, and the same logic that pointed out no one coached competitive skaters while competing themselves pointed out Viktor’s repeated statements about wanting to stay with Yuuri.

Would it be better to retire? He turned that thought over in his head, smiling absently at Viktor when Viktor looked his way. No, retiring right now wasn’t what Yuuri wanted either. Even if Yuuri helped Viktor break his curse tomorrow, Viktor wouldn’t be in serious competitive shape in time for Russia’s National Championship. Which meant he was unlikely to be in competitive shape as a whole, and would need to get back to that shape through training on and off the ice.

All which was counting chickens before they hatched, since the curse remained as it was. Viktor had mentioned in passing more than once that some component in it dealt with love, mutual love. Uneven feelings wouldn’t be enough to break through the callous nature of it; it was, by and large, stupidly fairy-tale in proportions.

Which he supposed explained how Viktor ended up as a magical girl mascot and mentor, if he thought about it. He snorted to himself, shaking his head when Viktor sent him a quiet, questioning look. He didn’t want to explain the paths his thoughts were meandering, or how it was thinking of Viktor that helped Yuuri pull away from thoughts attempting to spiral.

His mind settled as Phichit skated his program, the heavy air hanging over him pulling back to give him room to breathe. He didn’t see more than the tail end of Phichit’s skate, walking out of the back hall to wait by the boards, stretching his quads while Phichit made his way to the kiss and cry. Yuuri handed Viktor his guards, striking out to lap the rink once before returning to where Viktor stood waiting.

“You’ve got this, Yuuri. You can win gold. Believe in yourself.”

He stared down at the boards, hands planted on them, bent at the waist. Believing in himself was always the trouble, wasn’t it? “It’s weird hearing you try to sound like a coach now, Viktor.” Yuuri lifted his head, fixing Viktor with an unreadable look. “What is it you really think?”

Viktor pulled back a degree, hands shifting in Yuuri’s. He didn’t move away, only paused, re-evaluating. Yuuri maintained eye contact, freezing up into his resting anxiety face. He watched Viktor make a decision, leaning forward and squeezing Yuuri’s hands. “What I really think? Well, I was once a three time world champion before this nonsense with the curse, and I’m only standing here today because of you. I’m more grateful than you’ll ever know, but I also wonder… after all this time, how is it possible that you still haven’t won a single gold medal?”

Yuuri’s eyes widened, his head lifting and mouth dropping open. Viktor’s voice was misleadingly gentle, his words too blunt. Yet it was his eyes, so intensely blue, that kept Yuuri from speaking. Those same eyes that were soft even before his face showed the same fondness they carried, a warm smile turning the corners of his lips up, just a smidge.

“Yuuri, how long are you going to stay in warm-up mode?” He leaned forward, pulling his hands from Yuuri’s in order to wrap his arms around his shoulders for a hug. “I want to kiss your gold medal almost more than I want my true self back.”

It was both the worst and best thing he could have said. Yuuri stared blankly at the nothing over Viktor’s shoulder until Viktor pulled back, bringing his face into view. He seemed a touch unsure, the smile on his lips making it to his eyes, his belief in Yuuri unshakeable.

Yuuri swallowed, smiling tremulously and leaning in to hug Viktor tight. “I want that too,” he said, emotion swelling in his chest. _Love_ , he thought, but didn’t pursue it. Naming what he felt right now was too much, so instead he spoke another truth. “Especially with you in your true body, because you’re always your true self.”

Tears pricked at the corner of Yuuri’s eyes, and for the remainder of the music playing over the loudspeakers while Phichit’s scores were calculated, Yuuri clung to Viktor and allowed himself to cry. His makeup could handle it, and he took comfort in the hitch he heard in Viktor’s breathing and the steady warmth of his embrace.

They parted, clasping hands one last time, Yuuri pulling away first. He had thirty seconds to get into his starting position out there on the ice. After that, he had under four minutes to show Viktor what his coaching allowed Yuuri to achieve. Bringing him back to this stage of competition after his failures the season before; believing in Yuuri when he found it difficult to believe in himself. He’d thought about what he needed for a shot at gold after his short program, and he knew his program was going to have to be better than perfect. 

He didn’t ask Viktor about what to do. He didn’t tell Viktor what he’d decided on. He wanted to show Viktor, more than anyone, what he’d given to Yuuri: confidence in his capabilities and the decisions he made, the final key to what Yuuri had told him months ago on the beach of Hasetsu.

He wanted to meet Viktor on the ice as an equal, and so he would claim that now. He would skate a program as difficult as Viktor’s, and he would let his actions be the homage he wanted to pay to a man who had shaped so much of his life at a distance. Who had, in the last seven months, become an integral part of it in a way Yuuri hadn’t foreseen.

Both his skating and the unexpected fright of his magic would have left him alone and drowning, shying away from shades he didn’t understand, keeping himself from striving toward the goals he’d held important in his life. Then Viktor had come in on his four feet, carrying his curse and his wisdom and his almost lackadaisical irreverence for what proper teaching might be. Viktor opened Yuuri’s eyes to the world around him, complex and not always pretty, no, but also overwhelmingly filled with love.

Love from his family, and for his family. Love from his friends, and for his friends. Love from the fans he didn’t quite know how to handle, but appreciated nonetheless.

Love from Viktor, and for Viktor. Yuuri let all his loves flow through him, keeping his magic under tight lock as he swept through his step sequence, leading up to his final quad. He built speed and angled himself backward, toe pick digging into the ice as he pushed off, managing a full four rotations in the air. His clean landing was a shout of triumph in his ears, one he absorbed without losing concentration during his final spin combinations. None of it caught up and registered until he was in his end position, left arm outstretched toward Viktor at the boards, right elbow bent and at shoulder height, right hand held over the center of his chest.

He breathed hard, exhausted from the demanding nature of the program he’d made even more difficult than originally designed. Sweat rolled down the back of his neck, beaded across his forehead and upper lip. Tears were already forming in his eyes, the magnitude of his success overwhelming now that he was no longer moving.

Love lingered, too, as overwhelming as the rest, and he knew what it was he’d been trying to ignore before. He loved Viktor. 

The swell of emotion rising in his chest threatened to overflow, the ring on his right hand pulsing with a heartbeat of its own. Yuuri cried, making his bows to the audience, looking back over his shoulder to the kiss and cry and the man who stood there waiting, his arms thrown wide open.

Love was a place. Not just in Hasetsu, with his family, or under the rafters and lights of Ice Castle. Love was there in Viktor’s arms, and for one blinding moment as he skated closer, there was no doubt in Yuuri’s mind that Viktor felt the same way. He reached out to Viktor, smiling through his tears of triumph. Viktor’s hands met his, pulling him in for a hug with a laugh.

Then the world went dark. 

The heaviness he’d felt the prior two days crashed down over him, a physical force pulling him away from Viktor as the overhead lights flickered back on. Yuuri stumbled back against the boards, hitting hard enough to leave bruises. A mass of living shadow curled around Viktor’s limbs and middle like tentacles, pulling him out on the ice toward an oily black surfaced darkness swallowing half the rink and steadily growing.

“Viktor!” Yuuri tore off his skate guards, throwing himself through the gate to skate after him, catching up before Viktor was pulled into the main body of the behemoth, amoeba-like shade. “Let go of him!”

Viktor struggled against the shadow tentacles dragging him backward, fingers tearing at one covering his mouth. He pried it loose as Yuuri latched onto ones at his arms.

“Yuuri, transform!”

He’d never been so fluid in his movement as he was then, skates helping exaggerate the motions as Yuuri activated his transformation. He called on the magic for Viktor’s costume change without thinking, used to it from nights of running around Hasetsu together. The shadow tentacles wrapped around Viktor flinched but didn’t let go, pulling him into the shade even as Yuuri held up his wand, ready to fight.

His fingers tightened around the handle of a white feather fan, diamonds glinting where wood and feathers met. He registered his arm wrapped in white mesh, two formed pieces of fabric falling away from his wrist like partially extended wings. He didn’t pause to consider what costume he’d manifested now; he was too busy pooling his magic in the fan, lifting it high and sweeping it down and across his body, sending his magic against the behemoth shade.

“Give him back!” he said, forgetting his food-centric attempt at a catchphrase. He saw his attack hit regardless, spheres of light that struck the oily surface of the shade and burst into down-like feathers that dissipated as they floated down to the ice. Where they struck, the shade glowed pearlescent before the marks faded away.

He grit his teeth, pulling on more of his magic, sending attack after attack at the behemoth shade. Feathers of light floated in the air around him, a glow encompassing him and driving back the dimness elsewhere, yet nothing left a dent in the shade.

He geared up for another attack before he noticed a bubbling close to where he stood, a human-sized portion of the shade stretching forward. Two hands pushed through the oily surface, followed by a head and shoulders; dark hair slicked back and wet with a sheen similar to the behemoth shade.

Yuuri lowered his feather fan, brow furrowed as he stared at the person who’d emerged from the shade. In stature they were of a height with Yuuri. Black mesh encircled their arms and chest, glittering dark and compelling, white painted down their sternum, flaring out from their navel over the curve of their hips to their back. They were the transposed colours of the costume Yuri Plisetsky wore for the short program Viktor choreographed for him this season, the costume Viktor had worn himself almost a decade earlier. The costume Yuuri stood wearing now.

He stared at this inverted mirror version of himself, hairs at the back of his neck standing on end as he realised the shade had no whites to his eyes. Just black pools with no reflection, no light, no life behind them.

“Who are you?” Yuuri tightened his hold on his feather fan.

His mirror self shrugged, lifting his hands out to his sides, lips curving upward in a sharp grin. “Who are you? Who are any of us?”

Yuuri grimaced at the non-answer. He shifted his stance, starting to call on his magic again, ready to fight this new face to the shade that’d captured Viktor. “It doesn’t matter. I know what you are, and I want you to give Viktor back.” 

The shade wearing his face looked over his shoulder, arms still upraised, palms empty. “Who’s that? The dog-man?”

“His name is Viktor.”

“Victors, losers, names are such a nuisance,” the shade replied, sighing in a put upon way. 

Yuuri stepped forward, lifting his fan a degree as irritation lanced through him. “Maybe to _you_. What are you doing to him?”

For the first time something sparked in those fathomless black eyes. The mirror Yuuri smiled, no warmth in his expression, only a terrible emptiness. He dropped his hands, turning so that he was presenting Yuuri with his side as he nodded toward the behemoth shade behind him.

“Don’t you feel it consuming the magic? Not just yours. Concentrate on what you can _feel_. You should be able to do that much.”

Its patronizing tone of voice galled Yuuri, but he dismissed the black-eyed shade and focused on what his magic could tell him. There was no worth in giving the shade anything more of himself than it’d already copied in its inverted way.

He concentrated, sensing the behemoth shade absorb stray bits of magic across the rink. Most likely it had been collecting each smaller shade within the convention center since the start of events almost a week earlier, but its hunger wasn’t sated. He narrowed his focus, searching for the spark of Viktor’s magic in the massive shade.

When he found it, his heart skipped a beat, torn between relief that Viktor was okay and terror that Viktor wouldn’t stay that way. There was a strange tension in Viktor’s magic; a duality Yuuri didn’t understand.

The mirror Yuuri spoke again, one hand pressing down on Yuuri’s shoulder. He hadn’t seen it move closer, but it had. “It’s eating his curse. You feel it now, don’t you. This shade will consume that curse’s magic, and when it’s no longer there, it will start consuming him, too.”

“No.” Yuuri’s statement cut through the seductive murmur of the shade which looked so much like him. “I won’t let it, I’ll get him out of there!”

“Offering what? Yourself in exchange? It’d work. It’s not like we’re picky.” The mirror Yuuri pressed a hand against his stomach, sliding around Yuuri’s side to be looking him in the face once more. “You for him. Viktor walks free, and we take you instead. You’re not going to win, but this way, you’d at least die saving something other than your own skin.”

It wasn’t a whole truth. Yuuri felt it down to the marrow of his bones. There was more the shade wasn’t saying. It wasn’t in its nature to offer anything that wasn’t related to greed and fear, the two strongest emotions linked together in the shades before him.

The last of his attacks faded behind him, the soft glow of feathery light winking out of existence. The feathers of his fan still glowed, his magic suffusing them. What was stronger than fear? 

The answer came to him, quiet and certain.

_Love_. Love was always stronger than fear.

Yuuri lifted his fan, sending his magic to it. He had nothing to lose in trying this, too. As the darkness loomed behind his mirror image, the light clinging to the feathers scattered around his hands and knees glimmered. A warm glint of gold drew his eye; Yuuri stared down at his right hand and the band around his ring finger.

There was a truth he was afraid of claiming here. One truth he knew to the depths of his soul, one truth that his mix of selfishness and hope, stubbornness and inspiration, anxiety and exultation, every emotion that defined him in his life wove around, accepted as part of his whole.

The darkness stole over him, pushing him down to his knees on the ice, leaving Yuuri sealed in with his heartbeat and the voice that was his and wasn’t his speaking softly for his ears.

“Give up, Yuuri. Give up and save him. It’s what you want to do, isn’t it?”

His mirror self slunk closer, all grace and self-assured strength. No matter that it wasn’t a true mirror of himself; the shade had taken on this form for a reason.

Yuuri lifted his head, staring into eyes darker than his own.

“No.”

“No? You don’t want to save Viktor?” His mirror self clucked his tongue, shaking his head. “Selfish, selfish, Yuuri.”

“Yes,” he said, pushing up to his feet, bearing the impossible weight pressing down on him with grim determination. “It’s selfish. I want to save Viktor, and I want to be there with him after. I want to keep skating, and I want to see him skate. I want to wake up every morning for the rest of my life and see his face, even if that means he has to see mine, too.”

He wanted all those things because he was selfish, yes. He loved Viktor, and he didn’t want to give him up, not unless it was what Viktor said he wanted. “I lo—”

The shade interrupted him with a fierce, cutting motion. “Don’t you say it.” His mirror image frowned, brow furrowing. “You didn’t have the nerve before, don’t you dare say it now!”

Yuuri stood facing down the worst of himself reflected back through the magical miasma of the shade, lifting his right hand to his lips. His gold band continued to glow warm and steady, beating along with his heart. His lips brushed the metal, and then he brought his hand in front of him, palm out, fingers spread. 

“Viktor, can you hear me? I love you.”

The mirror image of Yuuri jerked back as if physically struck. “No! Shut up! _Shut up!_ ”

“I love you, Viktor Nikiforov.”

“Stop! You selfish creature, _don’t you dare!_ ”

“I’ve loved you for a while, I think, only I didn’t realise it, not exactly.” Yuuri stepped forward, palm thrust before him. The shade pulled back, away from the brightening glow of the ring. 

“ _Stop it!_ ”

“I don’t always believe what I’m told, and I’m stubborn, and I’m selfish. I want you to look at me before anyone else. I want you at my side, and I want to be at your side, too.” He continued driving the shade back, feeling the weight of its darkness pulling away, making it that much easier to breathe. “I want to watch you for the rest of my life, in everything you do. I _love_ you.”

The shade continued to wail, hands pressed to its temples, fingers curled into its hair. Yuuri could see beyond the shade now, back into the darkness where a light like the one on his hand pulsed, an answering heartbeat to his own. _Viktor_.

He was running out of words he knew he wanted to say, scrambling for anything else. Truths, they had to be truths, ugly or otherwise. He swallowed. 

“I want… I want to kiss you again. I want to do so much more than that, I admit it, but kissing is a nice place to start. Have I mentioned that I love you? Because I do.”

His ring pulsed brighter, answering the heartbeat of the warm glow encased in the shade’s darkness. The shade was losing form, fraying back into shadow. Yuuri stepped through it, impatient, reaching for Viktor. He could see his shape now, the outline of his familiar costume caught within the golden sphere of his protecting light.

“Viktor!”

From within that sphere, Viktor turned, blue eyes visible to Yuuri’s searching gaze. The glow centered over his heart, his ring resting against his chest, looped through the golden chain Yuuri had given him to wear. His mouth opened, no sound coming out; he reached out his hand, pressing against the edge of his golden light.

Yuuri felt the shade make one last effort to consume them both, the darkness moving closer, scrabbling for purchase. Yuuri ignored it, straining forward until the tips of his fingers brushed the golden light surrounding Viktor. His palm followed, and for a moment they stood like that, palm to palm, divided by nothing more than gold.

Yuuri smiled, heart aching in the most pleasant way. He didn’t shout, not this close. Here he only needed to speak like it was the two of them alone in the rink without the world outside intruding in.

“I love you,” he said, and then Viktor’s hand was in his, their fingers slotting together, a perfect fit. All around them the darkness was consumed by the spreading golden light rippling away from them as the sphere around Viktor dissolved, the last vestiges of the shade swept away. 

They stood face to face as light rained down around them. Tears gathered in the corners of Viktor’s eyes, spilling over his cheeks as they clasped hands, pressing their foreheads together. His joy shone as brightly in his eyes as the sun did over clear seas, beautiful and blinding.

“Say it again.”

Yuuri laughed, his own voice effervescent with happiness. “I love you.”

Viktor squeezed his hand, tears still streaming down his face. “Again.”

“I love you.”

“And again.”

“Viktor!” Yuuri squeezed his hand in turn. “I’ll say it as many times as you want. I love you.” He felt a little uncertain being the only one saying those words, but he’d never been much of a patient man in the first place.

“Good,” Viktor said, with such conviction Yuuri felt his stomach flutter. “I love you too.” He opened his eyes, meeting Yuuri’s gaze, so close. “Following up on something you said earlier, Yuuri…”

Yuuri hummed acknowledgement, staring into Viktor’s eyes and waiting for him to finish.

“I want to kiss you too.” He smiled, as if the tears streaming down either side of his face were nothing more than rain.

It was an imperfect second kiss, all smiles and teeth and tears, but Yuuri wouldn’t trade it for the world. Not even when the liminal space in which their fight happened fell away and Yuuri’s transformation ended as the world came to life around them. He kissed Viktor as reality caught up, the sounds of the crowd filtering through as they stood in the kiss and cry. He had no idea how they’d gotten here from where they’d been on the ice, but he supposed it didn’t really matter.

He pulled back so they could walk to the bench, holding Viktor’s hand as they sat amidst cheers. Belated realisation struck, Yuuri opening his mouth to blurt out an apology he couldn’t quite frame like he wanted. “That shade said if you were in there long enough, it’d eat away your curse. It would have been broken.”

Viktor blinked, looking at Yuuri in surprise. “Yuuri, that’s not possible. The magic wrapped up in the curse was being eaten, yes, but that wouldn’t have broken it. Once the magic replenished, it would have been back.”

“Oh,” he said, feeling foolish, but any other thoughts were shelved as the announcer spoke, Yuuri’s gaze drawn to the jumbotron hung over the center of the ice. He stared uncomprehending at the blurred outline of his score, the white numerals unreadable. The jubilance he’d felt after finishing his free skate was gone, his heart full of the overwhelming acknowledgment of love he’d made to Viktor. Now incredulity crept in as well.

His free skate broke the world record. _Viktor’s_ world record, from a few seasons ago. He turned to look at Viktor, eyes wide, mouth open to ask if he’d heard the announcer right, but once he saw Viktor holding out his hand, he didn’t have to ask.

He took Viktor’s hand, prepared to shake in his moment of shock, only to find himself hauled in for a hug. Viktor tucked his head against the side of Yuuri’s neck, free arm thrown over his shoulders. “This is the biggest compliment you could ever give me as a coach. Congratulations, Yuuri. Now I’ll just have to do better next year.”

Yuuri blushed, Viktor’s closeness sending a frisson of excitement shooting down his spine. Feeling Viktor’s lips brush his ear as he spoke didn’t help his concentration, so the rest of what Viktor said took a moment to register.

He pulled back, clutching Viktor’s hand. “Next year? Viktor, you’re coming back?”

Viktor said nothing, simply meeting Yuuri’s gaze and smiling. His casual confession of ultimate confidence in Yuuri was so easily given. He trusted Yuuri to help him end his curse, not the way the shade had lied about, but in whatever way would truly leave him free.

Viktor believed Yuuri would do that, and in time enough that Viktor could come back to the ice next year. His heart ached with a fierce affection and he smiled, not even thinking to complain as they were asked to stay where they were for a few photographs. Viktor pulled out his phone and asked one of the professional photographers to take a commemorative photo, and he almost laughed instead of looking at him askance; it was so absurd, and so like him.

They cheered Chris on before they stood up to leave, Yuuri pulled aside for a brief interview while Otabek took the ice. He had no idea what he said in reply to any of the questions posed in either English or Japanese before he extricated himself and jogged for the stadium to watch and learn his fate on the podium. Yuri Plisetsky was last to take the ice, and his performance was incredible while not perfect; Yuuri wanted to see him polished, imagining the heights that Yuri would strive to reach, if the conditions were right. It was exciting.

Yuri’s final score for his free skate was lower than Yuuri’s, but combined with his higher score from his short program, Yuri pulled ahead by point twelve points. 

Yuuri stared, feeling another surge of pride and astonishment as he read off the numbers on the jumbotron. Yuri Plisetsky had taken gold, and Yuuri Katsuki earned silver. Their podium was rounded out by Otabek, with JJ, in an amazing recovery, not far behind. All through the medaling ceremony, holding the flowers and wearing the medals and shaking hands with officials, he smiled. Not broad and happy in the carefree way he had earlier with Viktor, once the shock wore off. He smiled with the pleasure of having done better than he expected, even after having done less well than he hoped.

He’d be ready for Four Continents. By the time he’d skate against most his competitors here again, it’d be on the World’s stage.

He didn’t have much of a chance to talk with Viktor at length until after the press conference and dinner, where they both were dragged out with Chris and his choreographer alongside two of the pair skaters and one ice dance pair. Phichit joined them later on, and then JJ and his fiancé Isabela, at which point Yuuri and Viktor decided to head back to the hotel. 

“How are you holding up?” Yuuri asked as he hung up his coat, starting to shrug out of his sweater.

“Wonderfully, thank you.” Viktor rested a hand on Yuuri’s hip, leaning in to press a kiss to his temple like it was the most natural course of action in the world. Yuuri froze, startled at the casual display of affection, his face heating up. Viktor had to see it when Yuuri looked his way.

“It’s not exhausting? I thought using that many magic artifacts wore you out.”

Viktor canted his head to the side, his brow furrowing as he frowned. “What do you mean, using that many artifacts?” Blue eyes widened as Yuuri looked back in confusion; the hair ties were hardly new, and Viktor had to have gone through a truly considerable number of them that day alone. “Oh, Yuuri. Yuuri, I thought you knew.”

“Knew what?” He frowned, turning around to face Viktor head on. “What’s going on?” Fear fluttered in his stomach, soon followed by confusion as Viktor laughed, shaking his head.

“I thought you knew, when you asked about what that shade said… Yuuri. You did it.”

“Did what?”

“Broke the curse.”

“I—What?!” Yuuri grabbed Viktor’s shoulders, looking him up and down as if that would explain anything. “But, but _how?!_ You said the shade was lying!”

“It was! Yuuri, the shade had nothing to do with it. It was _you_.”

“Me how?”

“You told me you loved me.”

“I… yes?” His perplexion only grew, a blush colouring his cheeks in remembrance. He’d said it rather a lot. Far more than he’d ever expected before actually confessing, if he’d felt brave enough. “I did, but I don’t see how that has anything to do with your curse breaking. I didn’t _do_ anything.”

Viktor cupped Yuuri’s cheeks in his hands, his eyes shining with undeniable warmth and affection. “You were you,” he said, “And like you always do, you surprised me. You feel things so intensely, Yuuri. It’s beautiful to see.”

Yuuri felt less than beautiful right then, confused and a little irritated and a lot overjoyed. It made for an unsettling mix. “Viktor, I don’t understand.” He moved his hands to hold Viktor’s wrists, staring into his eyes. 

“You said you loved me, Yuuri, and you meant it. And I love you, too.” He stroked the pads of his thumbs over Yuuri’s cheeks, smile small and soft, for Yuuri alone. “The curse could only be broken by shared love. You and I, we met in the middle.”

His eyes watered, hot tears spilling over and down his face as Viktor’s words registered. He was overwhelmed, lungs constricting and making it difficult to breathe through the rising tide of relief and joy. “Oh,” he said, and he was laughing as Viktor pulling him into a hug.

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t realise.”

“I thought you had. I’m sorry, Yuuri.” Viktor gave him a squeeze, hugging him tight. “I didn’t mean to leave you worrying.”

Yuuri shook his head, burying his face against Viktor’s neck. “It’s okay, I’m happy. Viktor, you’re free.”

He felt Viktor’s chuckle even as he heard it. “And I’m exactly where I want to be.”

Yuuri’s breath hitched, tears coming in a fresh wave. Viktor said nothing, holding him while Yuuri clung tight, processing the events of the day in a crashing confusion of half-remembered images and emotions. Fighting a shade larger and more insidious than any he’d faced before in order to save Viktor; confessing his love and being confessed to in turn; breaking a world record in his free skate; winning silver at the Grand Prix Final when he’d had his worst showing ever at the same event last year; learning he’d helped Viktor end his curse.

Later, when they lay together in bed, Viktor curled around Yuuri like he was someone precious, Viktor spoke.

“Yuuri, with your Exhibition skate tomorrow… how would you feel about trying out the duet?”

Yuuri’s glasses were off, his eyes closed as he drifted closer and closer to sleep. At Viktor’s question, he slit his eyes open, then turned over, coming face to face with him.

“The ice dance choreo we’ve been doing for fun?”

“Mm, that one.” Viktor let his arm settle over Yuuri’s side again. 

The sensible part of himself debated saying no, but the part of himself that lit up at the idea of a challenge had him smiling and reaching for the hand Viktor rested between them. 

“Can we get the officials to approve it?”

Viktor’s answering smile was determined. “I can call in a favour or two.”

Excitement buzzed through him, making his aching toes curl into the sheets. “Then yes. Absolutely, yes.” He paused, a thought striking. “What are you going to do about a costume?”

Viktor chuckled, winking and squeezing Yuuri’s hand. “I have a few ideas.”

* * *

The press scrambled for interviews after Yuuri’s exhibition skate the next day. His silver medal was considered secondary to the even more unprecedented return of Viktor Nikiforov to figure skating, joining Yuuri on the ice in a restructuring of _Stammi vicino_ as a duet. Their ice dance was a rousing success, one their fellow skating performers had barely believed when they’d run through it during practice. It was incredible for two men who’d only been in the single’s division to have such synchronicity, to handle lifts as seamlessly as both did, moving in tandem with eyes only for each other. Not to mention Viktor had been out of competition due to injury the last two years.

Under the lights and in costume they were a fairy tale brought to life.

The only comment either of them made was when Yuuri and Viktor walked through the last stretch of the event center, heading toward transportation back to their hotel before the evening banquet.

“Mr. Nikiforov! Mr. Katsuki! Will either of you speak on what brings Mr. Nikiforov back to figure skating now after years of injury?”

Yuuri flushed in embarrassment, murmuring words no one managed to catch to Viktor, who laughed in return. Viktor looked back to them, all smiles. 

“Oh,” he said with a wink, “Just a little magic.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anyone interested in the music playlist I had over on Spotify for this story, you can check it out here: [impractical magic playlist on spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/shadhahvar/playlist/1KudgFMtPVidulgICITsdE?si=Je86xa2ERGCk9FWCKnPP2Q)
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this story and the wild ride it took you on! There will be a post-story fic coming out in the next two weeks, and its focus will be E-rated, dealing with events immediately after the end of this story. Absolutely not necessary reading, but a heads up for anyone who may be interested!
> 
> See you there! ❤


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